


Mythal'enaste

by Elellan



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dalish Elves, Death, Dragon Age: Inquisition Spoilers, Drama & Romance, Eventual Romance, F/M, Mage-Templar War, Mages and Templars, Past Character Death, Past Drug Use, Past Relationship(s), Past Violence, The Breach (Dragon Age)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-18
Updated: 2020-01-09
Packaged: 2020-01-16 03:02:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 30
Words: 84,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18512554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elellan/pseuds/Elellan
Summary: “Why are you so stubborn, Commander?!”, Riwan snapped, quite disrespectfully and completely out of the blue, “A decision has clearly been made and you're the only one still obsessing over the templars!”.Riwan Lavellan wakes up after the Conclave only to find her world shattered into pieces. She strains to adjust to her new life in the Inquisition, especially after discovering that the Commander of its forces is an ex-templar.





	1. Acquaintance

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first work, feel free to comment and make suggestions! I will add a new chapter each week. I will follow the main plot of Inquisition at first, even quoting some of my favourite dialogues, then I plan on deviating a little from the story, become more creative and follow Lavellan wherever she may go.

#  Acquaintance 

When she eventually woke up she could hardly remember where she was. She was feeling groggy, her mouth dry, her limbs sore, her left hand tickled and tingled as if she had been sleeping on it all night. Light wood was above her head and a fire was cracking nearby.  
“Strange,” she thought. In her settlement they scarcely had such a nice, clear wood which could be used to build huts. And building huts was a novelty too, considering the nomadic lifestyle of Dalish clans in general. This thought in particular made her realize at once where she was.  
She sat upright with too quick a movement, gasping loudly, just as another elf, a young girl, was entering what appeared to be the main door to the cabin where she had been sleeping. The girl gasped too and started excusing herself.  
“I didn't mean to wake you up, miss. I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry...”  
“What... Wait, where are you going?”  
“They told me to tell you that you must go to the Chantry. Lady Seeker would want to know and Lady Leliana too!”  
The girl bolted away leaving her flabbergasted, still trying to articulate some questions to better understand her situation. It was all too clear nonetheless: she was somewhere in Ferelden; she had helped a group of creepy weirdos in trying to seal a tear in the sky with the even more creepy thing that had appeared in her left hand (hence the tingling sensation); they clearly had no intention of letting her go and so she had agreed to help them seal what they called “the breach”. They had taken her right below it, where the first rift had appeared. A huge beast came out of it, as voices rang in her head, her own voice too, and when they finally killed the beast and she tried to close the rift, she witnessed some creepy visions and fainted.  
Reality hit her hard while she stood up. She was wearing a beige outfit that looked like an orlesian pajama. With a grimace on her face and after having examined her ominous left hand she decided to search for some other clothes. Her body was covered in black and blue bruises and the mere act of undressing and dressing up with a shirt and leather breeches made her hurt in several parts. Her thick, straight, auburn hair was tangled and she desperately tried to comb it with her hands, venting all of her frustration in that act and nearly tearing them out with a suppressed cry of anger. She wasn't with her clan anymore. They had sent her to the Conclave with some of her fellow hunters to investigate. They were all dead, while she had survived: yes, apparently she was the only survivor of a terrific explosion that happened there. She remembered its noise. Its loud “BANG” in her ears and then the ringing sound it left in them when she woke up, lifting herself from the ground and staggering helplessly. Her eyes were blinded by a light that hurt them. Slowly, they adjusted to the eerie green light surrounding her, but the loud ring and the whistle in her ears didn't cease to drill into her brain. Where the hell was she? There were rocks scattered everywhere, growing and glowing minerals that looked like lyrium – except that it was red and pulsating. And then the spiders. Crawling out of the dark, menacing, gigantic, each one with a name she knew: death, night, solitude, failure... She started to run with all the strength she managed to find in her damaged body, feeling something hot and liquid dripping down her temple into her neck. How did she manage to save herself? A bright figure. She took her hand. That was all.  
And then she remembered: repeating time after time this same story to the Lady Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast, as she had introduced herself. It was a luminescent figure, yes, but no deity. She didn't remember nothing but light and actually that may have been no woman at all, she had been desperate and the only thing she knew was that she had to run towards the light.  
She decided to stop thinking about it, otherwise she would have gone mad. She would have plenty of time that night to think about what happened. She would now find those people and pretend an explanation and then ask them to let her return to her clan right after the breach was sealed. What would the Keeper be thinking by now? They must have thought that she was dead. She grabbed a big woolen sweater and marched out of the cabin.  
It was a sunny morning, but the air was crisp and the wind carried the resting snow with itself. She looked at her surroundings sheltering her eyes, not yet adjusted to the piercing light reflected by the snow covered surfaces: she was in a small village of wooden houses, embraced by mountains and overlooking a lake, that she could only discern from afar. There were fortifications all around the core of the town and she could hear the distinct sound of swords in the distance. It was difficult not to see the Chantry even from afar. The building stood out among the others for its sturdy appearance and its height, quite uncommon for a building in that part of Ferelden, to be true, given that they were in the mountains and exposed to the elements. The Chantry was built with its back on one of the mountains and it overlooked the other buildings from its favourable position. She made her way through the streets of Haven – she had just remembered the Seeker, Cassandra, mentioning that name during their absurd encounter – while the people she encountered immediately turned to gaze directly at her, dropping whatever sort of thing they were doing while whispering between themselves: “The Herald!”  
The breach loomed in the sky, irradiating it with a sickly green colour. It looked like a wound in the middle of the eye of a tornado. And the worst part of it was that her hand pulsated accordingly with it. She shivered as she passed a group of tents pitched on the other side of the clearing in front of the Chantry and in that moment she noticed the sturdy figure of Cassandra waiting for her by the main door of the building.  
“I'm glad to see you're up and well,'' the woman said, after Riwan had reached her hesitantly, “You passed out after closing the rift and you didn't come round for three days. Solas said that you'd be better soon.”  
“Three days?”  
“Yes,” Cassandra said, opening the Chantry doors, “You have managed to stabilize the breach and we believe that with enough magic poured into your mark we will be able to close it. Still, it's a relief to know that demons won't literally rain down the Fade upon our heads.”  
“What do you mean by pouring enough magic into it?” Riwan slowed down, following the Seeker with uncertainty in her eyes, trying to adjust them to the dark environment, “I am no mage, as you well know...”  
“Of course you aren't,” Cassandra stopped in front of another, smaller door and faced her, “But we believe that the combined strength of your mark and some other source of magic could succeed in sealing the breach for good. But now we have other matters to discuss and I think you will be interested in them. Please, follow me.”  
Riwan turned briefly to catch a glimpse of the rustic main aisle of the building, lighted by iron chandeliers which were kept lit up even in broad daylight due to the excessive height of the windows. She then followed the Seeker into a low room. Behind a large table with a map on it were three people who immediately stopped talking after noticing her entrance. They looked at her intently.  
“Lavellan, may I present to you commander Cullen Rutherford, leader of our forces. This is Josephine Montilyet, our Ambassador. And this is Sister Leliana, our... Spymaster.”  
Each one of them greeted her after hearing their names. She looked at them with a puzzled look. The Commander was quite a broad, menacing, blonde man, Lady Josephine a mixture which she could not decipher between orlesian and antivan style, while she remembered all too well the Spymaster from her unpleasant interrogatory in what must have been Haven's prison.  
Noticing that they clearly expected her to make a statement she blurted out: “What am I doing here?”, her voice sounding more pissed than she intended.  
Cassandra gave her a menacing look while the others merely studied her from their positions.  
“Since you have agreed to help us seal the Breach we have decided to involve you in the decision-making of the newborn Inquisition, Herald.”  
Panic slowly crept upon her in the hour that followed. Things weren't as easy as they seemed: apparently part, if not the entirety of Thedas believed her to be the one responsible for the explosion at the Conclave and the Chantry wanted her head for having killed the revered Divine Justinia. The advisors, as they called themselves, believed that they should seek the Chantry's favour by recruiting a chantry cleric in the Hinterlands who may sympathize with their cause. The commander talked about the recruits and the development of the army and of the necessity of recruiting a capable horse master, while the Ambassador outlined their current diplomatic relationships with chantry members, noble families from Ferelden and Orlais and other prominent personalities. Leliana remained silent, watching her from the shadows of her hood.  
“Our next move will be vital, Herald,'' Cassandra said, “We must reach Mother Giselle and ask her to join us. It's a matter of life and death for you and for us all. Meanwhile Leliana will try to discover whatever she can on this Elder One...”  
“Wait, wait a minute!” Riwan exclaimed. She looked at them incredulously, then managed to say: “I only agreed to help you closing the breach, I don't... How... How do you expect me to do all these things! Based on what? What do you want me to do... I...” She lost it. She felt anger rise within her, while she grabbed the edge of the table for support. She had just woken up from what seemed to be a nightmare and they had started to brief her in as if it were the most normal thing in the world to do, as if she was a part of their organization, not a hostage, a victim of events that still couldn't understand where she was and what had happened to her in the last twenty-four hours.  
Leliana stepped out of the shadows where she had watched the whole scene and drew closer towards her.  
“I understand that this may seem all very sudden to you. Maybe for this present meeting we should just answer whatever questions you have for us and let you adjust to the new environment. We could easily delay the trip to the Hinterlands for a few days, right Josephine? Cassandra?”  
“Oh, but of course! I apologize for our rude manners. Please, feel free to ask us anything you wish to know!” the Ambassador apprehensively said.  
Without them having to encourage her further, Riwan started vomiting questions. An entire hour followed, during which they told her how Justinia had authorized Cassandra to create a new Inquisition if the Conclave didn't turn towards a happy outcome. The conflict between mages and templars had escalated quickly after the explosion, all Circles in Thedas were experiencing riots, breakouts and unrest while on the other hand the templars had gone greedy with power and had started to ignore the directives that came from the Chantry. They tried to convince her that she would have a decisive role in the upcoming events and told her that the people present in Haven after the explosion had seen her falling through the breach guided by a figure who was thought to be Andraste herself; they believed her to be a new Herald of the prophetess, while others believed her to be a criminal, a murderer and some also claimed that she was a Tevinter mage.  
Herald or not, the mark on her hand was the only thing that could save their world from the tear in the sky and willing or not their and her survival depended on her cooperation with them. They must search for allies in order to strengthen her mark so that she could seal the breach for good.  
“Maybe you would like to contact your clan and tell them you're all right?” Josephine hesitantly suggested.  
“Yes, please.”  
“Very well. I will let you have parchment, ink and quills if they aren't already in your cabin. I will also send you a note with everything you need to know about lunch, the location of the weaponry and such.”  
“We may meet again tomorrow morning at the same hour. What do you think?” Cassandra said.  
Having all agreed on the next meeting, they all started leaving the war room, Riwan marching in front of them, determined not to speak with any of them until the next day.  
She darted in search of a solitary place where she could think in peace, far from inquiring eyes and fanatics that called her Herald. While exiting through the main doors of the village she collided with a dwarf, whom she remembered was the one accompanying her in her forced trip to the breach a few days earlier.  
“Varric!” she exclaimed.  
“Ah, there you are. Running away, aren't you? You can trust me, I won't tell them where you went.”  
Relieved by his sympathetic look and witty tongue she managed to smile for the first time since she had been awake.  
“I don't think I will make it very far. I will have to be satisfied with finding a place where I can scream my lungs out.”  
The dwarf laughed: “Ha! I can totally relate to that. I would have done that too when I was first brought here, hadn't the Seeker interrogated me for days so that in the end I had no voice left at all to object.”  
“So, I understand it is a habit of theirs to bring people here against their will?”  
“Uhm... I would like to think that we are two unlucky exceptions.”  
“How long have you been here?” Riwan asked, her senses alert.  
“Oh, I had the pleasure of meeting Cassandra back in Kirkwall and since then she couldn't live without me. I followed her and the others from Kirkwall to Ferelden as Cassandra planned to use my testimony at the Conclave as a contribution to Justinia's cause,” he sighed, “Let's just say that things didn't turn out as they had planned.”  
Riwan gulped. Her brain was ticking like crazy, the word “cause” repeating itself in her mind.  
“I... I'm not one of them,” she managed to say, “I understand that my mark will be needed but... I didn't want to get involved in the first place.”  
“Who would want to get involved in this mess?” the dwarf laughed bitterly, “But I suppose that now we don't have much else to do. It would be of no use to go back home and pretend that nothing happened. Mainly because our homes may not be there anymore: if what they say is true, that new rifts are opening all around Thedas, we are the only ones who could do something about it. Ahh, maybe I'm just telling stories to myself, as I always do, but that mark must mean something.”  
Riwan sighed and glanced at the mountains in the distance, clenching her fists. Seeing her distracted, Varric said:  
“Listen, since it seems that we are on the same boat here, what about we have a chat tonight at the tavern? And complain about our tragic destiny?” The tone of his voice was curious and his eyes showed a mixture of concern and shrewdness that captivated her.  
Surprised by his proposal and relieved to find someone to talk to amidst all that chaos, she agreed, maybe too eagerly, making the dwarf laugh once again. They decided to have dinner together at 6.30 pm and departed for their own destinations.  
“Varric, wait! How will I be able to tell it's 6.30? Do sundials exist here or what?”  
He laughed heartily: “Of course there are! There is one right outside the main door, you won't miss it. See you later.”  
She strode away feeling a little better: perhaps the dwarf would help her understand everything her situation, perhaps she had found someone with whom she could relate to and who could probably understand her struggle. Maybe she wasn't all by herself.  
She exited through the main doors and found the sundial easily enough. She scanned her surroundings: to her right was the training field, full of soldiers sparring. Two huge tents stood at one of its sides and she guessed one of them must belong to the Commander. On her left was a path alongside which there was a smith and further on she could see the stables. In front of her, beyond the training fields, she could see the surface of the frozen lake that she had glimpsed earlier from afar. Snow covered the trees and the mountains all around the village. The path she saw on the left continued also in front of her, leading behind a large group of rocks, and to her right, through a little pinewood which extended on the side of the mountain that stood behind Haven. She instinctively went to her right, with an intense desire of smelling and hearing the woods. But maybe she had lingered there too much and no soon she started to walk towards the pinewood than the Commander appeared at her right cutting her off. He looked at her, surprised as she was, and stopped in his track.  
“Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to...” he exclaimed, while she started apologizing too.  
If he was embarrassed by that encounter as she was, he showed no sign of it a part from a continuous shifting of his weight from one leg to another. His look was exactly the one that he had had a few moments earlier in the war room: he looked at her with a severe if not somehow withheld gaze; he had an upstanding attitude and she immediately felt his commanding power swaying over her from his posture, his hands placed on the hilt of his sword, the look in his eyes that were this close to pierce you like steel had he not raised questioningly his eyebrows.  
“I'm sorry Commander,” she felt the need to explain herself, “It is not as it seems, I'm not trying to run away. I just wanted to find a quiet spot to be by myself.”  
Her apologetic remark made him produce a curt laugh.  
“Don't worry. I imagine it must not have been a very pleasant awakening for you today. There is a nice spot over there, in the woods. You must follow the path then turn left after the lumberjack's cabin. It overlooks the harbor and it is quite solitary.”  
His features softened a little bit as he looked at her more inquiringly than before. She indulged a little in the pleasure of staring at his handsome face, the light stubble on his chiselled jaw, the scar on his right upper lip and the blond hair reflecting the rays of the tepid sun. Still, he was the scariest man she had ever seen.  
She was about to answer when a scout reached them in a hurry.  
“Commander, report for you!”  
“Give it to me,'' he ordered. He gave it a quick glance and signed it with a quill that the young boy handed him, in time for another one to approach them and say: “Report on the new recruits, sir.”  
He took the report and gestured towards the scout to follow him.   
“As you can see we are quite busy,” he said. Riwan immediately followed him too, as if the quick gesture addressed to the scout was meant for her and she found herself walking beside the nervous recruit and feeling like a schoolgirl who follows the teacher in a demonstrative lesson; they passed through sparring soldiers supervised by a woman with a templar uniform who barked orders now and then. Cullen continued, seeming not to notice all of the activity that went on around him: “New recruits are coming in every day, guard duty has been already established, the soldiers' camp is in continuous development: all in all I'm confident that we will be able to gain enough support from the right allies, despite the Chantry having branded us as heretics.” He finally stopped near a low table on the other end of the training field where he put the new report beside three others which he had already signed. He handed them to the scout, who was all too eager to run away as fast as he could.   
“I believe that we will be able to accomplish great things if only we set our mind to it, your mark could be of great use for the benefit of all people: imagine being able to bring together factions that have been divided for centuries, all in the name of the greater good..., he finally heated up in his speech while he gazed into the distance with a confident and hopeful look. Riwan was hanging on his lips waiting for him to finish when he suddenly looked at her and abruptly stopped mid-sentence. He gave the same curt laugh as before and said:  
“I'm sorry, I got carried away. I doubt you came here for a lecture!”  
She gazed with awe at his smiling face and thought that no doubt he was fit for a leading position.  
“I didn't, but if you have one prepared I'd love to listen to it all!” she said with her brightest smile on her lips.  
His embarrassment became evident as he laughed again and scratched the back of his neck: “I, uhm... another time perhaps...”  
She averted her eyes trying to hide her embarrassment when she finally saw the templar symbol on his gauntlets. Her smile froze. Trying not to look too shocked she said: “Well, I... I thank you Commander.”  
She gave him a quick unsure smile and walked decisively past him and through the training field towards the woods. He stood there quite puzzled by the change in her behaviour, then came back to his senses after yet another scout approached him with a report. He went back to work and drew nearer to his lieutenant, helping her scrutinizing the sparring session.  
Riwan ran all her way to the spot that the Commander had suggested to her. It sure was a solitary and nice place, a clearing amidst the pines that looked out on the frozen lake. Someone must have put there some cut logs to serve as a bench. She sat down in a spot clear of snow, puffs of breath coming out of her mouth, as she clenched her fingers on her chest, trying to slow down her heart.  
She had seen many templars at the Conclave, but being at such a close distance and fraternizing with one was a completely different story. “No wonder,” she thought, “that the Commander of this organization is a templar. Why didn't they tell me!”  
She still couldn't overcome the distrust she had for that wicked order after everything that had happened at the village that stood in proximity of her clan's settlement. She was there when they attacked, to be true she had been very frequently at the village in those days. They were ruthless. Her sister was with her and she remembered her throwing fireballs all around her with terror in her eyes.  
She exhaled and her hands started trembling, while the mark on her hand emitted a few nasty sparks. She cried shamelessly for what seemed like forever, thinking about her clan, her sister Orawen, her fellow hunters, Shalle among all of them, her mother, the Keeper, the hahrens, the hallas... How they had bravely decided to settle down near the village of Hoden in the Free Marches, a reality quite untouched by the folly of the Chantry, where a mage called Electra lived and served the village as healer, herbalist, teacher to other runaway mages and, in the end, as teacher to her sister too. It was no use reminiscing the faces of the people of the village, how they got every day more accustomed to having Dalish walking among them. And she had better not think about Brian, the main reason why she stayed there longer than expected from her and why she got so interested in weapon crafting. It was all gone now, part of it had been destroyed by the templars and the other part was gone as soon as the mark was imprinted in her hand. She stayed there, letting everything sink in, while the feeble sun started to descend towards the mountain, painting the sky pink where it wasn't already tainted sickly green.


	2. An amicable chat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Riwan finds comfort in Varric's company. She meets Cullen on the training fields and learns a few things about the ex templar...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter!! Enjoy!  
> I noticed that the beginning of the story has taken some time to unravel, but the rhythm will increase with each chapter!

### An amicable chat

At 6.30 she entered the tavern. She had spent enough time alone, grimacing and freezing, and she felt acutely the stabs of hunger. Varric was already seated in one of the farthest tables with a jug of ale in his hand and a full plate in front of him. He saluted her and gestured towards the counter.

After having obtained a jug for herself and a dish of something that looked like stew from a very excited hostess, she made her way through the tables towards the dwarf. The tavern was quite full of people and recruits eating and speaking loudly. The building was made of clear wood and a huge fire was cracking loudly in a big chimney. No wonder it was so big, since it had to host all of the Inquisition entourage and feed hundreds of mouths: it had two big rooms, a bigger one in the front, and another one on the rear, a wooden wall dividing them, leaving a large corridor to pass from one room to another. A bard was strumming the strings of her lute as she sang along a heartbreaking melody. She thought that some noise and that messy crowd would be good and that maybe she would have a chance to pass unnoticed among all that people. 

“I surely am starving!”, she declared, slamming her jug on the table and sitting down.

The dwarf laughed and looked at her closely.

“I hope you will not take offense if I tell you that you're the most unusual Dalish I have ever met”.

They both attacked their plates. Chewing and drinking avidly she replied:

“And you're quite an unusual dwarf yourself! But of course, your reputation precedes you, so I'm not as surprised by your manners as maybe you are by mine. Mmm, this is delicious...”.

“Ah! A reader, aren't you? I'm even more impressed!”.

“Of course! Don't you think that my clan could live without copies of The tale of the Champion!”.

“Copies! Plural!”.

They continued chatting for a while. Riwan enjoyed the seemingly normality of the situation and the quickness with which the dwarf dropped any formality to indulge into a more amicable tone.

He told her about Kirkwall and Hawke, making her laugh-out-loud, while in return she told him something of her quite unusual clan and explained why they had decided after decades (centuries, for all she knew) to try and settle down.

“Incredible! A community with free mages! And Dalish placidly coming and going among them!”.

“I swear! Sometimes I ask myself why every place in the world is not like Hoden. But of course, reality is much more complicated...”.

“Indeed it is. I suggest not to mention these things too much in detail to our Seeker or to curly, or they would have a heart attack!”.

“Curly?”.

“Sorry, it's a habit of mine, I tend to give nicknames to my acquaintances. Curly stands for Cullen, or, as I should call him now, the Commander. If you ask him he will swear he didn't know me before the Seeker introduced us! But do not believe him, we were buddies in Kirkwall”, he said sarcastically.

“So you've met him before? Is he in your book?”.

“Yes, he is. He is the templar who in the end started cooperating with our gang...”.

“Connor?!”.

Varric laughed and emptied his jug. “Exactly! I gave him a false name. I didn't want to risk my head, you see, he has quite a short temper. I'm surprised that you remember him, he was a secondary character after all”.

She looked at him incredulously. “I can't believe it. I've seen the templar symbols engraved in his gauntlets earlier...”.

“Of course. He objected when Leliana and Josephine gave him his armour, but it was done anyway”.

“I can't see why he would object”.

“Well, curly dropped out of the order as soon as Cassandra recruited him. I guess he wouldn't have stayed with them anyway after what we all witnessed in Kirkwall”.

“I see...”, said Riwan, quite intrigued by the revelation, “He was a secondary character indeed, but I liked his development. Hated him at first! But the final scene of the book, where he draws his sword with Hawke against Meredith! That was epic! Did it really happen?”.

“It's all true, child!”.

It ended to be an evening full of wonder for Riwan. It seemed so strange that the destruction of her life and hopes brought her to dinner with one of the most famous authors of all Thedas. Being able to speak to him and hear directly from him the story of his adventures made her feel excited like a child with a new toy. They chatted about this and that and complained extensively about their situation for a few hours. The dwarf certainly had a way with people, so that she spoke her heart out and was able to lighten the burden that she had felt on her chest for the entire day. Before bidding him goodnight, she made him promise that he would explain to her Bianca's mechanics whenever they would have time.

Later that night, after brushing attentively her hair and beginning to undress, she was still dwelling upon Varric's stories. He must be a formidable archer, surely she would have a lot to learn from him. First thing next morning she would practice a few shots just to keep fit.

She was quite a bold and determined mind and the desperation that had overcome her that afternoon seemed to be long gone. For the time being, her temperament made her blissfully oblivious to the menacing threat in the sky and to the more concrete threats to her own survival of which the advisors had informed her. She decided to concentrate on the here and now, to regain her composure, her ability to remain focused even in the face of danger that made her rise up in the ranks of the hunters of her clan. Her main goal was to go back home and in order to achieve that she had to set before her a series of minor goals which could lead her to her destination. She set her mind into cooperating with these Inquisition people so that she could ultimately do her own good.

Her mind drifted then to Varric's revelations about the Commander. She felt a new sense of wonder and awe swell in her chest thinking that he was indeed the Connor from the book. And how shocked had she been earlier that day after seeing the templar's symbol! If all of Varric's stories were true – they must be embellished or exaggerated somehow! - Connor had had enough of the order and would no longer be addressed as “Templar” or “Knight-Captain”. She decided she would find out soon in her own way, at least to drive away the natural fear that his sight instilled her -- he had been a templar, after all.

She climbed into bed and she examined her hand: the mark was quiet now, but it still glowed and pulsated. She tried to touch it with her other hand by cautiously putting her index finger beside the gash: she felt a nagging sensation radiating from her skin to the nerves of her hand. She took a deep breath and tried to put her finger inside the mark: she hissed as an even more acute shock crossed her whole arm, a sensation similar to the one you feel when you press your belly button too hard. Even if she could somehow feel the skin under the mark, it was as if its tip could disappear through it, sucked into a sticky void.

That was enough for one evening. She shook her arm as strongly as she could and then her whole body. She grabbed a glass of water that stood on her nightstand and drank it all in big gulps before laying down.

She slowly fell in a sleep full of nightmares, of pale green figures, of Shalle's face shouting “Prey!”, of her turning only to find an enormous spider looming over her and an infinity of other amenities that allowed her to rest only for a few hours until dawn.

She woke up covered in sweat and not rested at all. She got up and entered the rustic toilet that stood on the rear of her cabin. Josephine's note said that she had a personal “carer” who would look after her baths and tend to her well being. She groaned at the thought of it: her so-called carer must be the poor elf that had woken her up the morning before. Well, if that girl could provide her with hot water she would have to approach her and negotiate an agreement, even if she despised having another elf as her carer. “Maybe I could force one of the templars' recruits to tend to my person. That would teach them...”, she muttered, while she painfully washed with freezing water.

She got dressed as best as she could and decided that she would develop a healthy habit of training in the morning. Since it seemed to be highly unlikely that she would have the chance to hunt or refining her archery, she would have to make the best use of all the free time on the training grounds that she could find. Besides, the mere acts of aiming, flexing and shooting made her relax and cleanse her mind. None of the clothes present in the closet, however, were fit for archery and, after a moment of indecision, she put on the ones that she had worn the night before with the addition of a woolen scarf. She then set out for the training grounds, hoping to find a bow and some arrows there.

The village wasn't awake yet, but there were already some signs of activity coming from some of the houses and she could see smoke running out of the tavern's chimney. The air was crisp and stingy and she started jogging in order not to freeze. Practice first, breakfast later, she thought.

She reached her destination and searched for bow and arrows, which she found easily enough in a chest near the blacksmith's, alongside a pair of smelly leather gauntlets too big for her small elven hands. The quality of the weapon was poor indeed and the quiver wasn't enchanted, but she would have to cope with it for now.

She started shooting the training dummies mercilessly and quickly, fighting off the cold, while she savoured the sound that the arrows made in the air and the cluck that they made when they reached the body of the dummy. The silence hovering over the village was so intense that the shoots rang and echoed through the training ground.

After fifteen minutes or so she felt as if she was being watched. She turned quickly only to see Commander Cullen watching her, leaning on the fence which secluded the training field from the rest of the area. He hadn't his heavy armour on, and his stern look was somehow softened by the heavy circles which he had under his eyes. He had in fact been standing there for quite some time, having already finished his morning patrol and his breakfast, and he had meant to put his armour on and start warming up himself when he saw her from the village's main door.

He had to admit to himself that she seemed to be quite a fine archer and he couldn't help but stare at her slender yet muscular form. The wind made her auburn hair wave on her shoulders and uncovered a shaved part of her head just above her left ear. Her light brown skin was painted golden by the rising sun and she had marks tattooed over her face in a dark red. She noticed his presence and swiftly looked at him in the eyes with a menacing look.

“Commander!”, she said, lowering her bow and panting a little, “You gave me quite a start!”.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to... I... That weapon doesn't seem worthy of your abilities, Hera... I mean, Lavellan”.

“Ha! That is true indeed!”, she glanced at him sideways and made quite a sensational shot meant to impress him, “You see, I had the finest ironbark bow with me when I left for the Conclave. I hope I will manage to craft another one soon”. She went towards the dummies to retrieve the arrows while he entered the training grounds, followed her and soon started helping her taking out some of them.

“I see, I'm sure our smith will be able to help you out with this matter”.

Riwan felt quite put out by his all too professional tone. She felt puzzled by her mixed feelings towards the man: her instinctive distrust and fear towards him for having been a templar and at the same time the urge, the need to impress him, to show him that she was strong, all combined with the temptation of breaking his work-devoted facade. She decided to take her chance and retorted: “I know that you templars prefer a sword to a fine bow...”.

“I'm not a templar anymore”, he immediately answered, making the arrows fall in the quiver which she was now extending towards him, “I resigned from the order when Cassandra asked me to join her”.

“Why? I'm sure Cassandra wouldn't have objected to your remaining in the order”.

“I didn't wish to. I'm sure you know what happened in Kirkwall. I was Knight-Captain there under Meredith when all that mess happened. I witnessed firsthand the rivalry between templars and mages, the qunari invasion and finally my own Knight-Commander going completely mad. I don't belong to that order anymore”.

His face had been immutably stern during all that speech, yet she was sure she had touched a quite sensitive spot.

“Well, of course I knew it”, she said, smiling cunningly, “I am no stranger to The tale of the Champion... Connor”.

Finally losing his composure Cullen snapped in surprise: “What! I... Maker preserve me...”.

Riwan laughed heartily at his embarrassment while Cullen struggled to find an answer.

“I hope that you will understand that it isn't all true...”.

“Don't worry, Commander. Varric told me that he used a little bit of imagination to create your character”, she lied.

“Well, yes, exactly...”, he hesitated and scratched the back of his neck with a lost look on his face, “You seem to be much better today, anyway”, he said eagerly, wanting desperately to change topic and avert the focus of the conversation from him to her instead.

“Yes, I am, thank you. You will find me exceedingly compliant at our meeting today”.

“May I ask what brought you to this resolution?”.

“Well, I desire to be done with this business as soon as possible and my best way out of it is to cooperate with you all. So I guess you can say that I am your man now”.

He showed her a tiny smile that made him lift only the scarred corner of his right lip.

“I understand”, he said. Even if he didn't approve of her egoistic logic he liked her decisiveness and outgoing attitude: she seemed like a force of nature, bursting with energy.

An awkward silence fell among them. Riwan started feeling embarrassed herself, a quite uncommon feeling for her. Looking at his smile made her lose her focus, so she decided it was better to leave the field before she showed any weakness.

“Well, I shall keep you no longer, Commander. I wouldn't want to interfere with your duties, maybe we will catch up in front of a jug of ale sometime. I mean, after the meeting, needless to say”.

“Oh, well, yes of course...”.

“See you later then”.

She darted away in the now semi-awake village and found shelter in her cabin before it was too late.

'You made a fool of yourself!', she thought angrily, with tears stemming at the corner of her eyes that made her even more angrier. This was the first time that she had indulged in such stupid conversation with a man – a templar, of all men! – after Brian's death and she couldn't suppress the guilt that she felt for not feeling guilty at all.

Fortunately, someone knocked at her door, interrupting her train of thoughts. The little elf from the morning before entered the cabin and exclaimed: “Why, you're already dressed, m'lady!”.

Cora – such was the little elf's name – helped her with a few errands, as Josephine had instructed her to, but not before Riwan had insisted that they called each other by first name and that their relationship was to be as equals. Cora showed Riwan to her breakfast, then to the smith so that she could obtain armour and weapons that could meet her likings, and finally to the herbalist, where Riwan bade Cora good day. She finally had the chance to meet with Solas and she wanted to thank him for all that he'd done for her.

The bald elf was surely fascinating and had a fine way of speaking, but it was clear soon enough that he didn't care for their common culture, claiming that he shared little with the Dalish beliefs.

Puzzled, Riwan took her leave. She heard him trying to apologize but she didn't turn and headed towards the Chantry to accept her fate with quite a bad mood.


	3. The Hinterlands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first mission in the Hinterlands doesn't work out quite as expected... In this chapter we also learn something about templars and vows of chastity... :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter three is out!

### The Hinterlands

An entire week had passed since these events and Riwan was now resting under the blue sky of the Hinterlands next to the campfire.

They had departed from Haven in a small group, composed only by Cassandra, Varric, Solas and her. She had started to take a liking to all of them, even if she still hadn't revealed anything from her past to any of them and even if she still couldn't get over the fact that the mark on her hand had condemned her to a fate of sacrifice. Probably, she would have to give up her freedom and, who knew, her life, for sealing that damned breach.

Any bad feeling between Solas and her was soon gone and she quite enjoyed hearing him talking about the Fade. While on horseback, she would sometimes ask him about demons and spirits, while Varric remarked that he was a dwarf with his feet on the ground and that that sort of things gave him the creeps. On the other hand, Varric was always bickering with Cassandra, clearly still annoyed by her not so gentle way of inviting him to join the Inquisition.

They managed to find mother Giselle soon enough. She was intent in caring for the refugees and, even if her occupation was quite praiseworthy, Riwan had to bite her tongue not to express her true feelings concerning Andraste to that Chantry fanatic. Fortunately, Cassandra was quite a good judge of her mood and stepped into the conversation before it was too late.

She closed a few minor breaches that they encountered on their path while trying to set up camps and find useful information about mages and templars that were openly fighting each other across the Hinterlands. After Solas had shown her how to do it the first time, using the mark became quite a spontaneous act for her. Having to face the demons pouring out of the Fade, on the other hand, had given her the creeps, as Varric would say. Another bunch of pretty faces to add to my nightmares, she thought.

They managed to reach horse master Dennet, as Cullen had recommended. Riwan promised that they would build watchtowers to keep the farms safe from any foe and that they would get rid of the wolves infesting the valley.

All in all it hadn't been so bad if you didn't count the killing part. In their first day in the Hinterlands they got caught between a fight among mages and templars. “Ambush!”, Cassandra had yelled, as she raised her shield and steadied her ground, while Riwan had followed Solas and Varric on the sides of the battlefield, aiming to feet and arms as Varric did so as to slow down anyone who was attacking the Seeker. After a while, though, she had started to feel sick. The Seeker had slained quite a few men without even flinching, Varric had begun to shoot lethal venomous arrows to his enemies' throats in the blink of an eye, while Solas had been casting barriers to protect them and had frozen to death those who managed to break them. Riwan stared at all that blood and the corpses; suddenly an arrow left her bow and pierced through the neck of a templar, making him fall to the ground in the middle of a fountain of artery blood. She could bear the sickness no longer: killing animals with precise shots to collect food for yourself and your clan was one thing, killing faceless and horrible demons was a thing too, but killing actual people who lived and breathed as she did was completely another one. She had run as fast as she could out of shot and started vomiting her stomach out. After some time the noises of the battle behind her had ceased and she heard running footsteps behind her. She was shivering and tears were falling from the corners of her eyes. She prayed those footsteps to be those of her companions.

“Herald, are you all right?”. It was Cassandra's voice. Her weakness was such that after many years she thanked Mythal. Cassandra helped her standing up and insisted that they went back to camp to let her rest. Riwan felt her first sincere burst of sympathy for the tough woman and gladly accepted her help. The next days hadn't been any better. She managed to vomit just another time, but when she didn't vomit her hands began to feel shaky, she began to sweat and swoon and she became pretty useless to her party. She was sure that the great number of crows that were flying in and out of their camps carrying reports were meant to bring the other advisors news of her inefficiency.

That was their last night in the Hinterlands, and Riwan couldn't sleep. She had lied down next to the fire while the scouts sat nearby whispering between themselves. She looked at the sky, partially blinded by the flames next to her, thinking of nothing in particular.

Someone sat on the ground beside her, but she didn't move.

“How are you, Herald?”, came the voice of Cassandra.

Riwan sat upright and seated next to her with her back on a log.

“I guess I'm fine, thank you”.

Cassandra remained silent for a while. She had taken her armour off and was dressed only in her usual leather breeches and a shirt. She seemed quite unaffected by the cold air.

“I know that maybe you think that it's not my position to give you any advice...”.

“Quite the contrary, you're most welcome”, Riwan replied quickly.

“I took the liberty of asking the Commander to arrange some training for you. I will help you too, if you wish”.

Riwan felt the strain in the Seeker's voice as she spoke. Even if she instinctively liked her as a woman, they hadn't been on the best of terms when it came to talking. Especially when it came to talking about gods and faith and the Chantry. Riwan not only didn't believe in the Maker, but she utterly despised the Chantry and she wasn't quite a believer in the elven pantheon itself. How could she explain that she felt the elven gods not as deities but as spirits, that she felt their presence because she knew that the forest had a life and a will, just like the river had its own and the animals too. It would be too complicated.

She sighed and decided that it was high time that she showed a little more of understanding for Cassandra's position, for both of their sakes.

“Thank you, Cassandra, I really appreciate it”.

“Good. We will decide at Haven what it is best to do. I also feel that I must apologize: the other day, after we met mother Giselle, I said some nasty things to you. I understand that I cannot force you to believe in a god that you don't care for as much as you can't force me to follow yours. I'm sorry that I was so presumptuous as to ask you to add another god to your pantheon. What must have you thought of me...”.

Riwan looked at the Seeker with eyes full of sympathy and disbelief, for she had just thought about that nasty argument too, but after a few moments she couldn't help but to laugh heartily and clap Cassandra on her shoulder. The stress and the horror of the previous days had been piling up on her back and were now crumbling down at the sight of the mighty warrior full of regret beside her. If one thing could be said about that woman was that she was passionate in whatever she did, being it slaying enemies or apologizing for her bad behaviour.

“Are you mocking me, Herald?!”, the Seeker exclaimed, quite offended.

“Oh no, no, no!”, Riwan bursted out, still laughing. She managed to regain some composure and said, hiccuping: “I'm so sorry. I'm really glad that you told me these things. It's just that I'm so freaked out by all this situation that if I don't laugh I may cry for the next three days! I'm glad to see you're not the iron lady I thought you were!”.

“What are you talking about, me an iron lady?”.

Cassandra seemed bewildered by the elf's naive behaviour, but they both felt a part of the wall that stood between them crumble and Cassandra couldn't help but smile.

Varric came out of his tent woken by Riwan's laughter. He scratched his eyes and said: “Have you gone mad, Lavellan? Or are you two exchanging dirty stories without me?”.

“Oh, please Varric!”, Cassandra snapped, clearly embarrassed by being caught in such an innocuous position by the dwarf. Riwan started laughing like a madwoman again and it took them quite some time to stop her from giggling and crying at the same time. Varric had then joined them next to the fire and had started recounting his most obscene anecdotes, while Cassandra held her face between her hands snorting and imploring him to stop. Eventually, Solas came out of his tent too and without a word he cast a calming spell upon them so that he may rest in peace. 

Cuddled by the spell, Riwan got back to her cot in the brown tent and lulled herself to sleep thinking about Cullen's scar moving accordingly to his lips. She had thought about it almost every night before her rest and felt all the more stupid understanding that what inspired these thoughts was pure raw attraction, her not knowing the man at all and having him been, for the most part of his life, a hated templar. Anyway, tomorrow they would have gone back to Haven, where she would have found plenty of reasons for not liking him at all.

They returned from the Hinterlands exhausted, dirty and in need of some consistent food. Riwan had a satchel full of elfroot which she had treasured for the whole trip with fierce jealousy. She couldn't wait to pay a visit to Adan, the herbalist, in order to teach him all the elven recipes for potions, balms, soaps, antidotes and all the other things essential to one's survival. She was glad to see Cora waiting for her at the city gates and announcing that a hot bath had already been prepared in her cabin.

She passed the entire afternoon cuddling herself, washing her hair carefully and applying elven balms to the numerous bruises and sore parts of her bodies.

A note was slipped under her door, announcing that the war council would take place first thing next morning. Quite relieved to know that she had the evening to herself, she finally payed the much anticipated visit to Adan , who didn't show himself much pleased in hearing someone explain to him how to do is own job. He softened a little, however, after Riwan coerced him into trying her elfroot anti – smell powder on his own feet.

She had dinner with Varric as usual and with another pleasant addiction to their company, as Solas exceptionally showed himself in the tavern. 

She decided then to take a walk and to reach the spot that Cullen had showed her before going to bed. They were so hungry that they had dined pretty early, so that the sky was still clear and only a single star was showing its face upon the mountains. She fetched a woollen mantel in her cabin and walked towards the woods at a brisk pace. Seeing some rams grazing nearby, however, she instinctively started following them in the midst of the trees, thinking that they were quite a stupid species compared to hallas. She lingered there for some time, indulging in the pleasures of deeply inhaling the balmy smell of the pines and looking at the placid animals. Suddenly, she heard the sound of footsteps coming from the path and immediately hid herself behind a tree. It was a matter of seconds before she could discern the figure of the Commander walking on the path and tightening his furry mantel around his neck.

“Hello, Commander!”, she nearly shouted.

Cullen reacted quickly, putting himself in a defensive position and reaching for his sword. He had almost unsheathed it when he recognized Riwan's figure emerging from the trees.

He exhaled sharply and with a severe look on his face exclaimed:

“Are you completely out of your mind, Herald?!”.

Riwan giggled and excused herself: “You're right, I'm sorry. It isn't a great joke to make to a man walking alone in the middle of the night with a sword on his side”.

He relaxed and dropped his hand from the hilt of his sword.

“What are you doing out here?”, he asked, his voice as severe as it was during the war council.

“Nothing, I was thinking about going to that place you showed me the other day and stopped to study a pack of rams over there”.

“I'm afraid I was going to the same place, I will leave you to it”, he said, starting to go back where he came from.

“Your presence will not disturb me if you wish to go there. Unless you want to be alone...”, she said, at first urgently then hesitantly.

“Oh, I... If you don't mind me...”, he stopped in his tracks and looked at her, his expression almost unchanged.

“Come, we can have a friendly chat from time to time. But, please, do not spoil anything that you would say tomorrow at the war table”.

“Very well, then”, he said, raising just a corner of his mouth and inviting her to precede him on the narrow path. Riwan's heart pounded fiercely: what was she doing? Why did she feel the need to confront herself with this templar fanatic?

They arrived in the clearing quickly enough and she sat on the logs, while he remained standing, wrapping himself even more tightly in his cloak. A few moments of silence passed, during which she watched him sideways, not able not to be a little amused by his solemn and composed look, but feeling at the same time scared and nervous for his proximity to her.

“So...”, she struggled to find something to say, “I gather that it was you who put these logs here?”.

“Me? Oh, yes, I did put them there...”.

“Oh my, so it is I who is the intruder here!”, she laughed.

“You may stay in this place whenever you like, of course”, he answered, much too seriously.

Silence loomed between them again, while Cullen stirred beside her uncomfortably. After a while he said: “May I ask you something, Her... Lavellan?”. He had noticed that being called Herald annoyed her so he had decided to try not to use the title too often.

“Of course, spit it out”, she said, watching the sky grow a little darker and another star appearing in the distance.

“During my training as a templar I had the chance to study a thing or two about Dalish culture, of course, but I never had a chance to discuss it with an actual Dalish”. He stopped and glanced at her, having abandoned his serious expression and making Riwan smile in return.

“What of it?”.

“Ah... Actually, I don't know where to start.”, he laughed, clearly embarrassed, “What about the tattoos you have? I believe they are called vallassan... or something like that?”.

“Vallaslin”, she corrected him, “blood tattoos”.

“Blood?”.

“That's right, we use a special ink prepared with blood and the tattoos are imprinted upon us when we come of age. They symbolize our worthiness as Dalish and our belonging to our culture. You may not emit even the faintest whimper while being tattooed, otherwise the ritual will be stopped: you will be marked as someone who's not ready to undertake adult responsibilities yet and will be treated in the same way as a child”, she said, exaggerating a little, happy to talk about her customs and her people.

“I see...”, he said, “And... did your ceremony... go well?”. 

“It did!”, she laughed heartily at his awkward question, “Of course it did. When I became officially one of the hunters I even decided to extend my vallaslin to my whole body. The most tough of us do it”, she added, showing off playfully.

He laughed, trying to conceal his evident blushing caused by the thought of the vallaslin covering her body. He hadn't, in fact, failed to notice that the symbols ran down her neck and he had imagined that the tattoo could extend further... . Riwan, on the other hand, was too busy trying to untangle her own feelings and it was too dark for her to see him blush anyway.

“And they have a meaning, I remember...?”.

“Yes. My facial ones are in honour of Mythal. The ones that I added later on are devoted to her and to Andruil, the goddess of the hunt”.

“It is like a rite of passage”, he observed.

“Yes. Do you templars have one?”, she asked, a pinch of hostility emerging from the tone of her voice.

He sighed and she noticed that the serious expression that he had before had resurfaced again on his face. This made her somehow regret her words, as the Commander had clearly understood her aversion towards templars, but at the same time she felt a jolt of satisfaction run through her body.

“Yes. When we conclude our years of training there is a vigil and we take our vows. After that we are given our first draught of lyrium and from then on our lives are devoted to serving the order”.

She started asking him questions about templar training, for mere politeness at first, then with increasing curiosity after she shifted to more personal questions and learned that he left his family to start his training when he was just thirteen.

“I wasn't the youngest, you see”, he said, “There are some who are promised to the order from their birth and start their training when they are nine or ten years old. They made an exception with me, maybe because they saw that I was promising or just because I was very insistent that they should bring me with them”.

“But what made you decide to join them?”, she asked with disbelief.

“I just wished to help. The village where I come from is very little and it hosted just a handful of templars. Still, they served the community and I thought that joining the order would be a way of... helping. Helping people. I think that is the main desire that pushed me towards that path. You see, I had three siblings, I still have, actually, so I was used to helping the younger ones when I lived with my family. I don't know”, he said, as if he was pondering every word carefully .

“Didn't you miss your family?”.

“Of course I did. At first, I felt very lonely and lost, but there were a lot of boys in the same situation and we helped each other out. I trained really hard and managed to take the vigil after five years”.

“So it means you were good at it? Were you the teacher's pet?”, she said grinning.

“Ha, yes... I mean, I wanted to learn and I tried to do the best that I could. That doesn't mean that I enjoyed reciting for hours the Chant of Light or that I didn't occasionally get distracted or bored. I just committed myself to it as best as I could”.

She felt something snide surfacing in her mind as she asked: “So, how are these vows of yours? I swear to serve the Chantry forever and something like that?”.

“More or less”, he said, “We swear our allegiance to the order and the Maker and from then on your life will be devoted to them, just like I said”.

“I see... Do you also need to take a vow of chastity or something like that?”, she asked, smiling as candidly as she could.

He had been looking at the blue sky throughout the whole conversation, but now he turned to face her.

“Vow of chastity... why, how...”, it was quite dark now and she couldn't read as well as she would have liked his expressions and she now reprimanded herself for not having kept that question for a more suitable moment, when she would have been able to see the embarrassment on his face, “I mean, it is not necessary, but if one wishes it can be done”, he said, clearing his throat.

“I see... and did you take them?”.

“Me?! Maker's breath, I... no! Why would you... I didn't. Can we please change topic?”.

“Of course, that is everything I wanted to know anyway”, she said, quite satisfied with his bewilderment and suppressing a laugh, “Come now, Commander. It is getting quite dark and I believe that I will have to be prepared for a good dose of scolding from you all tomorrow morning. Shall we go back?”.

“Of course, Lavellan”.

He let her lead the way, then, noticing that her steps were uncertain since she didn't know the path as well as he did, he said: “Allow me”, as she made space for him to pass. He could have sworn that her eyes held a fluorescent light within them even if they were in almost complete darkness, but he tried to avoid her gaze during their brief walk.

They reached the end of the little wood, continued towards the gates in silence and arrived in front of the first group of cabins. She stopped, eyeing hers on her left.

“This is me”, she said.

“Very well”, he said, “Ehrm... I... It was a pleasure having this friendly chat with you, Lavellan”.

“Indeed!”, she said, quite satisfied with the outcome of the evening, “Goodnight, Commander”.

“Goodnight”, he said.

He reached the Chantry with great strides and got rapidly into his quarters, trying to avoid eye contact with anyone he met. He didn't want any trouble tonight, as he had had enough of sedating fights between Chancellor Roderick and the few mages, clerics and commoners who had reached Haven in the last month. He closed himself in his room and quickly undressed and stoked the mild fire in the chimney. He sat in contemplation on the floor in front of it. It was two days since he had returned from a small city near Ostagar infested by demons. Their forces were not numerous but they had been quick and efficient and since then his lyrium withdrawal symptoms hadn't troubled him too much. He couldn't sleep well, as always, and headaches were always waiting for him around the corner; he awoke with nausea in the morning, but fortunately enough it let him be during the day. His last serious attack had happened a month ago or so, but he knew that the worst was yet to come.

He sighed and hoped that he could have at least a peaceful night of sleep without any desire demon haunting him with the malicious vision of the Herald's deep green eyes.


	4. In need of some training

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan trains with the Commander each morning in order to improve her fighting techniques... with poor results!  
> She then leaves for the Storm Coast and Val Royaux, where all sorts of things happen!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the fourth and last introductory chapter of the fiction! The next ones are almost ready and from now on they will be more main story centered and will contain some drama so... I hope you'll enjoy this digression before things get tough!  
> The chapter is focused mainly on the Inquisitor and her party's first trips throughout Thedas because: I wanted to give an idea of the struggles they went through during their travels; I wanted to give a glimpse on how the Inquisitor bonds with her party; I wanted to make a little more time pass between the beginning and the main missions, because I love the initial atmosphere of the game; I enjoyed writing it! :)

###  In need of some training 

The war council that took place the following morning lasted for hours. And even though Riwan thought that they would thoroughly discuss their trip to the Storm Coast - where a scary band of mercenaries awaited them - or their subsequent one to Val Roayaux - where a much more scary band of clerics awaited them - the main topic of their meeting had surely to be her incompetence in combat.

As she stood there blushing and trying to defend herself as best as she could from the advisor's discontent, it was unanimously decided by them that she would train each morning with either Cullen or Cassandra. 'As if morning training can resolve this kind of thing', she thought to herself, submitting to every decision they made nonetheless.

A few days passed. She woke up early every morning and trained with Cullen while the sun rose placidly without warming them. Since the Commander had morning patrols to do, he volunteered to relieve Cassandra from that responsibility. She accepted gladly but said that if she managed she would assist them too, much to Riwan's relief. In fact, she didn't feel calm whenever the Commander was around her and she felt unpredictable and couldn't understand where her swaying mood would take her – she thought that Cassandra's presence would be sorely missed.

As a matter of fact, Cullen had agreed with Riwan by saying that training wouldn't necessarily give her the courage to cold-bloodedly kill someone else, but he did, however, instruct her in a few tactics and coerced her into bringing with her hidden daggers.

Having established the schedule of their meetings, the Commander had been relentless in his training: there was no way in telling him that she was tired or distracted and he didn't seem to care that she was a woman and an elf and therefore that her build was far more leaner and slender than his. For all these reasons and for his focus that didn't sway even if she tried to trick him in every possible way, he was quite a good teacher: she tried to talk him into distraction, to tease him even, and when she saw that these tactics didn't pay off, she finally tried to overcome him with her superior agility and swiftness of movement. Not once could she beat him or touch him with the wooden daggers as he had instructed her to do and every morning throughout the training his expression changed from stern and resolute to smug and full of mockery.

The day before their departure to the Storm Coast he was still trying to instruct her in close-ranged shots and dodging. That morning, in particular, he seemed to be considerably tired, the circles under his eyes more evident than ever and a few drops of sweat appearing on his brow.

He was mimicking the movements of a tall-shielded warrior with a wooden shield as Riwan practiced the movements he had taught her, though one way or the other she knew that she would manage to get killed, to his great disappointment. That day too was no better than others. Even if Cullen looked beaten he didn't show any tangible sign of fatigue while practicing. As always, she thought. He just had his leather thick skin over a shirt and leather breaches, while he made her train with full medium armour on in order to get used to the weight of it while fighting in a man-to-man combat.

At some point he came near her circling her with the shield raised: she looked at his determined eyes and got distracted. Sensing her shift of focus he immediately took advantage of it and pushed her to the ground with his shield.

“Ooof!” she cried as he pinned her down and pretended to hit her with the wooden sword.

“What now, Lavellan?”, he barked.

“Ehrm... swift dagger on the left side!”.

“Ha! You hesitated, it just cost you your life!”.

“Aaaaargh, it's my thirteenth death!”, she cried in frustration, then, raising her torso from the ground and smacking her left palm on his nose with all her strength she yelled, “No! I'm not dead, I will suck you into the Fade with my enchanted hand and bring you down with me!”.

Cullen dropped sword and shield to the ground next to him and rolled off her on his side, holding his nose and trying to hide his laughter.

Riwan was startled for a moment: it was the first time that she saw him lose his composure and, more importantly, it was the first time that she saw him laugh so genuinely. Was he having fun?! She started laughing too and threw herself back on the ground, letting her fatigued body be shaken by the waves of laughter.

“I'm sorry”, he eventually said, still laying down and giggling, “I'm too tired today to remain serious...”.

She teased him mercilessly, oblivious for the time being that they were both lying on the ground in a very non-professional and non-convenient manner. Just as Riwan managed to sit on her knees she noticed Cassandra watching them from the fence.

“Oh my, I think we are in trouble Commander...”.

He shot a quick glance towards the Seeker and got up brushing the snow and the dirt off his trousers.

“Indeed we are!”, he said sarcastically.

“I see you're having a good time... quite unexpected from a training session”, Cassandra said, raising her voice.

“It's my fault, Cassandra”, Riwan said, her braided hair in disarray, jogging towards the woman and panting loudly, “I'm always trying to distract the Commander so that I can overcome his brutal strength!”, she said.

“Of course...”, Cassandra said, smirking.

“She is improving in the fighting too, though. Other than in the mockery”, Cullen said, reaching them and smiling. Lavellan's heart skipped a beat in seeing him all messy, with a few curls escaping his always perfectly styled hair.

“I certainly hope so, Commander, or you will have very much to hear from me when we return from our expedition”.

Cullen laughed: “I sincerely hope it will not come to that point!”.

“Well I came to see how the training was going and to tell you that you'd better get prepared” Cassandra said placidly, cutting the conversation short, “The meeting is in an hour and then we are leaving”.

Riwan darted towards her cabin as the other two continued to move on towards the Chantry.

She washed without being able to stop smiling. She was growing somehow fond of Cullen and the gentle nature that he showed behind his thick, rocky surface. In the last few days, she had somehow forgotten that he was a templar and had simply admired his ability, his focus and in the end his pleasant dorkiness when she tried to talk about topics that differed from the Inquisition, war tactics or their common acquaintances. Cora entered her cabin with her armour and prepared it on a chair while Riwan was drying herself up in front of the fire.

Their trip to the Storm Coast and the following one to Val Royaux were exhausting, to say the least. It took them nearly two days to reach the first destination and while Riwan had hoped to refresh her senses with the beneficial sea air, she was immediately contradicted by the constantly howling wind that swept the coast and brought with it the salty water of the sea and sprayed the constantly falling drizzle right into their eyes. They arrived just in time to aid the Bull's Chargers in an ambush they had prepared for some Tevinter mercenaries who smuggled goods along that route. The Charges seemed to Riwan quite an odd group and she immediately liked their way of teasing each other and the lack of formality between them and their leader. 

“It will be a pleasure working with you, Herald”, The Iron Bull said, then he turned towards one of his men and yelled, “Krem! Move your fat Tevinter ass over here and let's get going! See you all in Haven!”.

The following days were hellish. They had decided to follow a trail that Leliana had uncovered concerning the Grey Wardens. They had been acting strangely as of late and the spymaster was convinced that they were looking for someone or something. To make matters worse, some of their vanguard scouts had gone missing, probably taken prisoners by a group of mercenaries that called themselves Blades of Hessarian. Scout Harding had sent them to negotiate with the bandits, but they hadn't returned. On and on they marched, never able to find a solid path that could lead them on top of those rocky hills. More often than Riwan would have wanted, they started to climb what looked like a solid route only to have to desist midway for it became too steep to proceed. Surprisingly, Varric proved himself to be the most dexterous of them all, jumping from rock to rock and hanging hard on to the scarce natural handholds that they could find.

They persisted on their intent to resolve both matters at the same time: whenever they encountered the hostile Blades of Hessarian a conflict would arise and whenever they found traces of the Grey Wardens they were too scarce to determine who they were looking for or where they were going. The mercenaries, however, were readily taken care of: they found their main camp in a clearing surrounded by trees; any attempt to parley was vain, as the mercenaries immediately attacked them. Riwan proved herself to be a little improved since their trip in the Hinterlands and remembered what Cullen had told her: “You will truly see what you're capable of when you’ll find yourself in a life or death situation”.

She managed to knock off some of the mercenaries while Cassandra dealt with their leader. Eventually, they got the best in the fight, but they all reported injuries and, far worse, their scouts had all been killed days ago. They were forced to retire in one of their camps to rest and heal their wounds, an idea that Solas eagerly endorsed. Since Riwan had met him, he had always been placid and quiet, but now he started to show some signs of irritation. In fact, she had heard him exclaim “Fenedhis!” several times during the fight and even during one of their climbing sessions on the steep hills of the Storm Coast.

Later that night he tiredly tended to their wounds with the aid of another healer who had been assigned to the camp. Riwan had been bitten ferociously by a mabari on her right calf and she had been immediately tended to with a special balm and an antidote, for the healer and Solas himself feared the eventuality of a canine infection. After a while, he returned to examine the wound and she seized the opportunity to say: “You look worn out Solas. I've never seen you so stressed out!”.

He looked kindly at her and laughed lightly: “I have to admit that this trip is tiring me. There are no benevolent spirits in this place and our research for the Grey Wardens seems ominous. This might sting a bit, hold on”, he said, as he uncorked a little bottle and poured a black and viscous liquid onto her wound. She hissed and grimaced.

“Ouch! What is that?”.

“It's an elixir that I invented. It's made of deathroot”.

“You must teach me the recipe whenever we have time, ouch!”, she said, “Well, I can't say that I don't agree with you, anyway. Who knows who they’re looking for. Surely Leliana would have known if it was someone very important. Maybe a Commander of their order has gone missing”.

“I sincerely don't know. And I hope that our staying here won't last much longer. That should do it”, he said, applying new bandages on her blackened calf.

“What do you mean by saying that there are no benevolent spirits here?”.

“Do you remember how I told you that spirits in the Fade like to dwell on places where our history has unraveled?”.

“Yes of course! Quite fascinating!”, she exclaimed.

He smiled sympathetically and continued: “This place has history too, a dark one. We have seen numerous caves on the Coast. I believe they are dwarven thaigs and that they have been deserted for centuries due to the darkspawn”.

Just hearing the name of the blighted creatures made her shiver. “Do you believe we will encounter any?”.

“I don't know and I hope not. Rest now lethallan and let's hope that tomorrow you'll be able to walk”.

“Thanks, lethallin”, she answered, the elven term and how he said it immediately warmed her heart.

“Solas!”, she stopped him before he could go and check on Cassandra, who probably had a broken rib, “I didn't even ask you how you are. Were you injured?”.

“Nothing serious”, he said, walking back to her and pointing his fingers on her forehead, “Sleep now”.

She rapidly lost consciousness and slept deeply through the night.

Unfortunately, their permanence on the Coast was extended for another few days, much to Solas' and their regret. They finally managed to find all the clues leading to the Warden presence in that place, only to find out that they had already gone away some ten days before. They decided then to descend downhill and set another camp on the coast before departing, but their way was blocked by a tremendous sight: on the gravel foreshore, a dragon and a giant were fighting ruthlessly, making the earth shake and deafening them with their roars. They hid in the bushes, the sun high and cold in the sky, the wind howling ferociously as always and soon they were all wet by the dew and the seawater that reached them in sprays and drops. After what seemed like an eternity, the dragon ripped the head off the giant's body and flew away. They shivered violently as Varric said: “Well, what do you think of it, Seeker?”.

“We'd better not face that dragon ourselves or it will be the death of us”, Cassandra said with pursed lips and her eyes fixed on the fallen body of the giant.

“I'm glad to hear it!”, Varric exclaimed, making Riwan snort despite the anguish that had swelled in her chest.

They managed to move on quickly enough: fortunately, Riwan's calf didn't impede her movements, though it pulsated and hurt with every step she took. They decided to enter some of the abandoned thaigs: Riwan felt Solas' discomfort as well as Varric's and couldn't help but to be nervous herself. The caves were dark and gloomy and she proceeded by hugging the walls in search of torches. Once she even took a different turn into one of the corridors and was left alone, her companions having advanced in another passageway. She started panicking and had to face two giant spiders all by herself: she took her new daggers out and started to cut the air around her frantically, stabbing them like a madwoman and crying in disgust. In the end, she managed to get reunited with the others and started sobbing like a child while babbling something about spiders and dark and being terribly scared.

Eventually, having done everything they could, they decided to leave the blasted Storm Coast and started to travel towards Val Royaux. They would spend one day in a mansion near the city where a noble orlesian family, the De Martin, distantly connected with Josephine's one, had accepted to host them before their visit to the capital of Orlais. Truly, the De Martin couldn't wait to meet in person the famous Herald of Andraste and surely they would have been the talk of all Val Royaux when the other nobles playing the game would discover that she had been their guest!

Despite their eccentricities, their staying there was pleasant enough: they slept in real beds with soft covers and each of them had the luxury to take a long hot bath. Lord Hugh De Martin even called for their personal physician to check on Riwan's wound and on Cassandra's pain in her side.

They were served a majestic dinner and even if nor Cassandra nor Solas showed themselves to be fit for such a social occasion, Varric soon became the main attraction of the soirée for the delight of their hosts and guests and handled the situation brilliantly. At the end of the evening, he had signed five copies of The tale of the Champion and even one of Swords and shields, the worst book he had ever written, according to him.

The events that occurred in Val Royaux during the days that followed were so absurd and catastrophic that even Varric had to admit his surprise.  
"One should have expected no less from such a place...", he muttered to himself, as they went back to Haven with no help received from either the Chantry, the templars or the mages, but accompanied on the other hand by a mad elf who had declared herself to be a Red Jenny's agent, by the First Enchanter of Montsimmard and of the Imperial Court of Orlais Madame De Fer and, last but not least, by a box of chocolates wrapped in golden ribbons that had cost them a ridiculous amount of sovereigns.  
"One should have expected no less...".


	5. An argument

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When faced with the critical decision whether to ally with the mages or the templars, Riwan has no doubt. Not everybody agrees with her choice, though, and Riwan can't stop herself from lashing out bitterly against them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally... some drama!  
> Also: I'm finally starting to slightly understand how this html works. I prefer the text without all those spaces between. What do you think?

###  An argument 

It was a few days since they had returned from their trip to Val Royaux and Riwan's days had passed peacefully enough: Adan and Solas quickly healed her wounded calf, she enjoyed the company of her new companions in the tavern and she passed a few afternoons with Harritt, the smith, discussing the schematics of the ultimate perfect bow. She had planned also on providing her party with better weapons and she couldn't wait to meet with Josephine that morning before the meeting, for the Ambassador was confident that she should receive an answer from her clan soon and maybe that could mean gathering a reliable source of ironbark. It seemed incredible, but she was already adjusting to her new life. With her attitude becoming increasingly serious and involved, even the advisors started treating her with a different attitude themselves, as they began to pay more and more attention to her suggestions at the war table. She had even started to read the books that Leliana and Josephine had given her on Thedosian history, culture and costumes, in addition to the ones concerning military tactics and strategies. She had gradually accepted the fact that she was the only one who could do something about the mess caused by the breach right now and she had, at first reluctantly, then meekly accepted the responsibility. She couldn’t even deny that she liked those people. If you overlooked the fact that half of them were Chantry zealots, they were all right.  
The only thing that was not proceeding as expected were the morning meetings: an argument had arisen between them and it didn't seem to veer towards a resolution any time soon. They had decided that they would approach either the mage rebellion or the templar order to gain capable allies that could help them seal the breach. While Leliana, Josephine and Riwan were keen on seeking the mages support, Cassandra and Cullen, in particular, were insisting on trying to address the templars. They had spent hours discussing the topic, evaluating carefully the pros and cons, and they had decided that today would be the last day: a decision had to be taken.  
Riwan attentively braided her hair as always and set off to meet with the Ambassador. She entered her office inside the Chantry. Josephine smiled and said: “Close the door, Herald”.  
Josephine had good news: the Inquisition's scribes had managed to get in touch with her clan and their meeting after all had been pleasant enough. She handed her a few letters addressed to her from her keeper, her family and her friends, while going on explaining how keeper Deshanna had gifted the scribes with plenty of healing herbs and had offered to aid the Inquisition with anything that was in their power. Riwan felt tears gathering in her eyes as she shot a glance at the thickly written sheets of paper.  
“Mythal'enaste”, she murmured, smiling broadly, “Thank you, Josephine. I believe we will need all the ironbark they will manage to spare”.  
They discussed a few more minutes on the matter, then, as Riwan put the letters in one of her pockets, the bell announcing their impending meeting rang.  
The Ambassador sighed: “Let us go then”.  
At first, things didn't go as badly as Riwan had expected: she thought that both Cassandra and Cullen would not yield to the majority's decision to meet with the mages but she was mistaken. Cassandra gave up soon enough on her suggestions that day – she merely said that maybe talking to Lord Seeker Lucius would have been worth a try and that maybe he would have come to his senses after all – and even Cullen, from whom Riwan had expected a major resistance, had been nothing but polite in his objections and he sounded quite rational too in his reasoning. Riwan repeated over and over again that she surely believed that not all the templars were corrupted but that she would not consider approaching them. The Commander, on the other hand, insisted on contacting some of his old acquaintances inside the templar order even if the Inquisition decided to ally with the rebellion, for he believed that some of them may join their cause nonetheless. They went on like this for a few minutes until suddenly something clicked inside Riwan's brain, as she started to feel increasingly annoyed with Cullen. He had always kept a low, pensive and firm tone throughout their debate and it was always in that tone that he said: “All right, Herald. We will reach out to the mages. Just, please, think about what I've said. Sending a letter or two addressed to the right people can't hurt”.  
“Why are you so stubborn, Commander?!”, Riwan snapped, quite disrespectfully and completely out of the blue, “A decision has clearly been made and you're the only one still obsessing over the templars!”. She started pacing to and fro her side of the table. Cullen on the other side didn't move of an inch and kept his hands clenched on to the hilt of his sword. His face was severe and stern and he gazed at her persistently, while Riwan avoided looking at him at all. The other advisors and Cassandra raised their eyes towards her with a startled expression on their faces.  
“I'm not _obsessing_ over the templars, I'm just saying that _maybe_ it would be wise to address both parties, at least at the beginning”, he said, still calmly.  
“I _understood_ your position, _Commander_ ”, she said, mocking him by stressing out some words as he did, “But if you wish to keep in touch with some _friends_ of yours it is none of our business”. She was fuming and she felt that she was losing it and that she couldn't control herself anymore: words were getting out of her mouth without a filter anymore and she felt that she was being unreasonable and completely inappropriate, but it was too late to correct the route of her thoughts .  
Cullen stiffened in his position even more when he heard Riwan's last retort and his eyes pierced her fiercely. A deep wrinkle formed between his eyes as he frowned and it cost him every bit of self-control that he possessed not to raise his voice. He felt all his nerves shaking inside him.  
“I'm starting to think that maybe you have a biased approach on the matter, Herald. I have contacts among them...”.  
“And _maybe_ your approach is biased too!”, she finally halted and stared at him, her voice had risen a few tones and her eyes sparkled, “You will not convince me, Commander. This meeting is over. We will go to Redcliffe as soon as possible”.  
She looked at the advisors' faces all around her, none of them dared speak another word. Josephine and Cassandra seemed glued to the ground, Leliana's eyes glimmered below her hood, while Cullen still looked at her disapprovingly, a huge frown on his face, hands still tied to the hilt of his sword.  
Her voice dropped down as she managed to say: “I'm sorry for my tone, I didn't mean to be disrespectful”, her expression still angry but now somehow shocked, she shot a final glance towards Cullen, then turned and marched away in big strides.  
Needless to say, she hid from the advisors all afternoon. She ran towards the place in the woods, only to escape unnoticed through the trees when she thought she heard footsteps. She then stealthily made it to her cabin with only Iron Bull seeing her.  
She felt utterly ashamed. And yet she couldn't bring herself to offer Cullen and the others her apologies, for her anger had risen from a deeply rooted place in her brain which was difficult to eradicate. She would have preferred to be buried alive – ‘I will become a vallasdahlen’, she thought – than to meet them again. In the end, though, she got bored, and after having studied the external situation from a window she exited her cabin and walked resolutely towards Varric, who was writing in open air next to a big fire, as was his costume.  
“Varric. I need a drink. Will you help me?”, she said, looking at her feet.  
He lifted his face and looked at her in total bewilderment, then said: “You know that I can always help with that!”.  
After a few hours, they were still in the back of the tavern with Iron Bull and Sera, playing Wicked Grace and drinking ale, Riwan feeling relieved that none of the advisors had yet put banners all over Haven stating that she was a stupid, disrespectful child. She was feeling dizzy and laughed wildly at Bull and Sera's stupid jokes, gaining for herself the nickname of “crazy”, with Varric standing on his chair and declaring loudly: “I hereby appoint you with the undying nickname of the house of crazy!”. They had all drank too much, and after a while only Bull was still claiming that he was sober, while Sera had started snoring with her face on the table, and Varric struggled to get up from his chair. Riwan decided to follow the dwarf's example and to return to her cabin to sleep in her bed of shame. They passed in the front part of the tavern, which was now nearly empty given the late hour.  
She had nearly reached the door when she heard a voice behind her saying: “Herald, may I speak to you?”.  
An expression of terror spread on her face. Varric looked at her, laughed and said: “I'm out of here!”, leaving quickly through the front door.  
Unluckily for her, Cassandra and Cullen were keeping late hours too that night. They had been discussing for quite some time - indeed, she had been part of that discussion too - but none of them had seemed to hear her presence in the other room – mainly because of Bull's booming voice. When they saw her coming out from behind the wooden wall Cassandra had nudged Cullen on the elbow and there they were.  
Riwan turned slowly, trying desperately to conceal her poor state: “O... Of course”, she croaked. Her eyes were wide and her hair messy. She made for the door, but he said: “Maybe we should stay inside. It is quite late and it must be cold”.  
She quietly obeyed, as Cassandra bid them goodnight and went out.  
Cullen reached the most private table in that part of the tavern and Riwan sat down in front of him. He had no armour on, only his mantle, but he was composed, as always, and looked at her blankly while opening his mouth a few times, trying to find the right words. She held her head low, looking at her hands, not able to meet his gaze. Her heart was beating like crazy and her breath was shortened – ‘Don't panic’, she thought, ‘you can handle this, just breathe’.  
“I... Lavellan”, he solemnly began, “I don't see how I could have offended you in any way. If, however, you feel like there is something about my behaviour that you find... displeasing, please, feel free to tell me. As of my having been a templar, there is nothing I can do about it. But I wish to let you know that you are quite mistaken... that you need not fear me”, he grew more hesitant and bitter with every word he said, “Templars may disgust you, but I'm...”, he inhaled sharply and couldn't manage to continue his sentence.  
She finally managed to look up from her hands and saw that he had a troubled expression on his face. Her dizziness made her eyes swell as she thought: ‘He is not responsible for anything that happened. It wasn’t him. It wasn’t him'. She repeated it over and over, trying to convince herself about it.  
“I'm sorry, this is useless”, he said angrily, hearing no answer from her. He stood up and as he was about to go she managed to stop him. “Wait”, she said, rubbing her eyes and her face and trying to articulate a linear speech.  
“Let me explain myself, Cullen”, his name obliviously escaped her lips. He sat down, finally noticing her tipsy state. He had been so concentrated on his own words that he had mistaken her strange behaviour for embarrassment. ‘Oh, Maker…’, he thought, feeling uneasy and awkward and totally incapable of handling the situation.  
“I will tell you what happened, though I am sure! I am sure that you already read it somewhere, Leliana wouldn't have missed such juicy details of my life!”.  
“I don't need to hear it if you don't feel like...”.  
“No, I want to. Now or never”, she said dramatically, leaning on the table.


	6. A story from the past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Riwan and her party set off to meet the rebel mages in Redcliffe...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annnd here we are! Thank you so much for reading this!  
> Argh! I wish I could write down all the silly ideas concerning this story that come into my mind!!  
> Anyways, enjoy!!!

### A story from the past 

The next morning Riwan left Haven for the Hinterlands as soon as possible. She usually made her party wait in front of the stables for some time before she showed up in a hurry, making up some excuses for having forgotten her healing potions or her quiver or her belt... . That day she carefully avoided the training fields and lost some time only in paying a visit to Adan – who gave her, without her having to ask, three bottles of his personal hangover remedy. “They would have been six, hadn't that qunari stolen the others without even asking”.  
She was the first one at the stables and waited a few minutes for her party to show up. The letter that she had written during the night was tucked in her breast-pocket. She couldn't bring herself into giving it to him. She had thought of leaving it at his door stealthily at dawn or to ask Cora to deliver it to him after her departure. She did none of those things and the letter was still with her and she felt so embarrassed about the night before that she hoped that her expedition would last for two months at least and that Cullen in the meantime would find another occupation or... get married or something and elope with one of his soldiers or whatever. Fortunately enough, their trip to the Hinterlands would last at least a few days: first they had to find a certain Gray Warden named Blackwall, as Leliana had recommended her, next they would have to go to Redcliffe, from whence they had decided not to leave until they had reached a satisfactory agreement with the mages.

Cullen would have accompanied her to her cabin the night before, as a gentleman would have, had she not literally escaped at a certain point, excusing herself and leaving him there like a fool. Truth be told, he was glued to that chair and he didn't have enough courage even to reply to what she had said. When he eventually got up and walked slowly in the night towards the Chantry, he had hated himself for not being able to tell her what he thought, that he too was hurt and wrong. He just sat there, eyes wide-open, not saying a word. Just recalling how Riwan got up and lifted her shirt made him blush. “Do you see it?”, she had said. She was showing him her back and only a little portion of it was visible: he had seen her dark skin and the signs of the tattoos and, right in the middle of her spine, part of a huge scar. “Is it a...” cross, he had intended to say, but the word had died on his lips, because he immediately realized that that gash wasn't meant to look like a cross, but as something else.  
When he had reached his room Thomas was still in there, reading one of Cullen's history books. The boy jumped on his chair when he saw the Commander enter.  
“I'm sorry, Sir. I was making sure that the water for your bath was still hot for when you arrived”.  
“Maker, I'm sorry!”, Cullen exclaimed, for he had forgotten that he had instructed the boy to wait there for him.  
“Will you need help, Sir?”.  
“Thank you, Thomas, you can go. And you can keep the book”.  
He stripped naked and immersed himself in the tub. He contemplated his pale body and he instinctively hated it - full of scars whose origins he could distinctly remember, the slashes and cuts from Kirkwall and the gashes and burn marks from Kinloch. He thought he envied her, he envied how she could tell him all those things after barely a few months of acquaintance. He couldn't say a thing about it to anyone and ten years had already passed since then.  
That night the nightmares were worse than ever, he dreamed of demons and the faces of his friends ripped from their skulls and of his hands carving that scar on her back with his bare fingers, while he screamed and screamed and yelled that it wasn't his fault and begged them to stop.  
The next morning he was relieved to know that Riwan's party had left so early. He had intended on going to the Hinterlands himself, to check on the watchtowers and convince Master Dennet on following the Inquisition as their official horse master. He had thought of leaving with the others, but he had happily delayed his journey: he would have waited a few hours and departed with a little contingent of soldiers, they would have stopped for the minimum time required in one of their camps and then come back. His absence from Haven wouldn't have been critical, since he would carry with him all the unfinished reports that he had to write and read.  
He left on horseback with one of his lieutenants, Rylen, and three soldiers. Noticing his gloomy mood, his subordinates didn't dare speak to him, they had learned that those bad days meant the Commander being snappy.

_Hoden was the perfect place, you see. We decided to stay there: no Chantry, no asshole shemlens, there were mages there who could live in peace. My sister is a mage, her name is Orawen. She was second to the keeper, of course, but keeper Istimaethoriel Deshanna - yes, that’s her real name… Well, she wasn't jealous or whatever so Orawen went to Electra too. She was an amazing mage. My sister, I mean. And Electra too. We all lived in peace without needing any of your crazy shit like circles or templars or revered mothers.  
I had... a boy. A boyfriend. Not a son. He was a shem. I'm sorry, I'm... I keep saying shem because I... I'm tired, yes. I don't mean it. Anyway, his name was Brian. I was ashamed of it at first. I didn't think that anyone could possibly accept us, even if we were in Hoden. I thought it was so secret, but the truth is that it was obvious that everyone knew, we were a public spectacle! Not because we were a knife-ear and a shem but because we thought that we could keep it secret, you see…? But this is not the point of my talk._

At exactly the same moment that Cullen was shaking Master Dennet's hand, Dorian and Riwan were thrown through a rift into another time. They winded up in a cell, two guards screamed upon seeing them, but they were readily taken care of. They looked at each other and both smiled bitterly and sarcastically: Riwan could feel all of the dramatic irony that the mage's gaze expressed. Alexius’ apprentice was charming, witty, skilled and refined and, strangely enough, he seemed more curious about the mess they were in rather than shocked as Riwan was. The frenzy of the three days spent in Redcliffe had brought Dorian to their group and apparently all the precautions they had used to cope with the meeting with Alexius had proven useless. ‘Damn Andraste and this Herald thing again and again’, she thought, staring helplessly at the cell’s walls and at the filthy water in which they were immersed calf-deep. Alexius had sucked them inside of a rift and they might as well die there, for all she knew.  
“This is interesting, it seems like we have been displaced by the rift… to what? If we are still in the castle… of course! It’s not where in the castle, but when!”, Dorian observed, seemingly unshaken by the recent events.  
“Did we move forward or back in time?”, Riwan asked, slightly panicked.  
“That is an excellent question! We’ll have to find out, won’t we?”.  
Riwan quickly unlocked the door cell and looked around her. They were clearly in the prison of the Castle and a red mineral was infesting it and protruding from every crack: its mere sight made her sick and she felt a strange humming in her brain. ‘It's like the one in the Fade’, she thought, ‘The red lyrium, the one that Varric and Hawke discovered…’.  
“Do you think that the others will be around here somewhere too?”, she asked Dorian, shaking her head, trying to get rid of that humming sensation.  
“I guess that we have no choice but to look around. I don’t know if the time rift was powerful enough to transport us all here. Probably it’s just the two of us...”.  
What she saw in the next hours shocked her deeply. They managed to find Cassandra and Varric trapped in other cells, they both looked somehow lost and a little crazy, with eyes out of focus that glowed red, just like the veins that were observable under their skin. It took them time and potions to make them come round and Riwan was upset in seeing Cassandra desperate as she had never seen her before.  
“You! You are alive? Has Andraste given us another chance? Maker forgive me! I have failed you, I have failed us all! Is it the end, that the dead return to life?”, the Seeker exclaimed, her eyes fiery, her voice unnatural, anguish and pain in her every word.  
They found Grand Enchanter Fiona babbling by herself in another cell, red lyrium was growing out of her body and her reaction in seeing the Herald of Andraste return from the dead was similar to Cassandra’s one. She confirmed Varric and Cassandra’s history: they had travelled one year in the future, in 9:42 Harvestmere. Fiona begged them to stop Alexius and the Venatori, who were serving someone named the Elder One. She thought this Elder One to be a powerful Tevinter Magister, who in that future year had managed to kill Empress Celene and to form an army of demons that was now conquering the entire South of Thedas.  
They went through the gloomy corridors of the prison and saw shadows of those who once were mages, devoured by the red substance. They found Josephine laughing and talking by herself in one of the cells, her beautiful dress torn by red shards, her hands roaming around her frantically.  
“We have to leave her here, Herald”, Cassandra said gravely, looking at her friend with deep sorrow, “Let's leave her cage open and go on”.  
On they went, through black corridors, surrounded by the devilish humming and by the whispers of the prisoners. They had just passed another cell and were ready to go up a flight of stairs when she heard a voice saying: “Maker, stop...”.  
She turned around in a panic and went back to the cell from which the plea had come, her companions alert, objecting with angry remarks to her going back. On the floor of the cell laid a man in tattered clothes, one of his arms was a red glowing claw and part of his face was red and stony too. His eyes were red and she could hear him beg and wail in hushed whispers. “Cullen...”, she murmured, her eyes wide open and transfixed, as Cassandra stumbled on the ground beside her, saying “Oh, Maker, no...”. He raised his eyes to meet theirs but didn't recognize them, just like Josephine hadn't, and as Riwan herself looked at the Seeker and back at him she felt like she understood something, though she couldn't express it in words.  
Keeper Deshanna's voice echoed faintly in her head, as unexpected as welcome, together with the words she would repeatedly tell her, trying to reach to her, trapped in a non-existent time and dimension, without Orawen, without Brian. But it was she, Riwan, who wouldn’t listen. And four years had passed, she hunted with Shalle, bow and arrow the only way of making her forget and live somehow, she became lethal as she invested all of herself in it. Strange that the words that had always missed her would reach her right now, in a possible future, amidst the red lyrium humming, in front of Cullen's torn and tormented body. She got up from the filthy floor of the prison and laid her forehead on the cold wall for a moment.  
“Let's leave him here”, Cassandra said heavily. So they went on in search of an exit and, more importantly, of the one responsible for the nightmare they were living, Alexius.

_I think there was a snitch. We had had templars visits before, but they arrived in little groups, like they wanted to explore and the Mayor always told them that the villagers went to the Chantry of …of a city nearby. We always managed to get away with it._  
_That day they came. I was in the village with the other hunters. Uhm... we were at the forge, Shalle needed new arrows and wanted to try those that Brian made. Electra had a big house near there, with a garden for herbs... you know. And my sister and the others were there too. They arrived. A full contingent with a Knight-Captain. With a perfect timing too. How could they know the mages would have been all gathered there that day? That's why I know it must have been a damned snitch. It seemed that we would have gotten away with it too that day. Until the Captain of those templars took one of the young ones and shook her by her wrist. We were all watching from a distance. I felt my stomach lurch and... tension in my arms, I wanted to shoot an arrow through his head but I would have endangered everybody if I did. The girl panicked and a lightning came out of her hand. It wreaked havoc. In a moment we were all fighting. But my arrows couldn't pierce through their heavy armour. They were meant for prey. I remember my sister's face, her eyes locked onto mine for a second, she was terrified, she blasted fireballs all around her and I'm sure that she killed some villagers too in the attempt to save themselves. We were soon stifled. They used some sort of ability that drained them of their mana. The villagers who had opposed them were killed. Only a few were still fighting. I saw one of them taking away my sister and I started running towards them. Brian stopped me, “You're gonna get yourself killed!”. Hahaha! He went instead of me. As he cut an arm off a templar he was pierced from side to side._  
_I ran there and I couldn't believe it. I thought I could still keep him alive. And then... I... the mages were taken. We all stopped fighting. I couldn't see anything, I just sobbed and sobbed and I had blood on my hands and I felt that my sister was being taken away._

It was her arrow that struck Alexius down, making him unable to stand anymore. All the things she had seen in that cursed Castle hadn’t weakened her, as she felt like she was rising to a higher level of comprehension and determination. She had to get the hell out of there.  
At first, she thought they were doomed. They took in more hits than those they managed to shoot and they couldn’t find a way to overcome his defenses and his everlasting barriers.  
Then the pieces started to fit in. They had unknowingly developed a tactic. She met Varric and Dorian’s gaze for the fraction of a second and they all broke a tiny smile. In that moment she could focus. Just like in the woods, hunting for prey; just like she had done on the training field.  
Elven words piled up in her head: she retrieved an arrow from her quiver, asaan, she shot, bora. A circle formed in her head as she continued to shoot, to avoid, to leap, to kneel and run: bor’assan, bor’assan, bor’assan… . Her hands were stiff and started to hurt, just like her arms and shoulders, she was sweating profusely and started to think: ‘The weight goes in the middle, keep your balance in the belly, not in the shoulders’.  
Cassandra had taken up her shield to cover from the magister’s blows and from Riwan’s line of sight she seemed invincible; Dorian cast barriers upon her and Varric and Riwan and Leliana too, elegantly swaying his staff and killing the demons exiting from the rifts created by Alexius; blood was flowing from a cut on his forehead down his face and his neck, but he wiped it away carelessly; Varric covered the part of the battlefield opposite to Riwan’s one and it was he who first knocked the magister down with an explosive shot. From then on it all went away in a terrified blur or in an endless stream of time and in the end, after she had been hit by something that had made her lose her loop for a few seconds, Riwan saw an opening and, gasping with pain, rage and fatigue, she had shot the final explosive blow. Alexius was down, a tendon had been severed in one of his legs. 

_Someone forced me to get up. I didn't see who, but then I heard him say out loud: “Let this be an example of what happens when you oppose the Chantry and the Templars' orders”. I tried to slip away, but they were in two. I had no strength. They kept me from running and hit me. He said “A knife-ear and a slut”. I was tied to something... and... I got this. Do you see it? They laughed and then they went away. I would have preferred to die. I was hoarse for the screaming. Four years have passed and I still don't know where they took my sister. They killed Brian and my neighbours and... I feel ashamed. I'm marked and I will never be able to forget it... That is why we were sent to the Conclave. I thought I could catch a glimpse of Orawen, I don't know why. I only know that it isn't our fault, it is yours and theirs! … I'm sorry, I should go._

Cullen went back to Haven to arrange Dennet's transfer to the Inquisition. A crow had reached him before his departure carrying a cryptic message from Leliana, saying that an alliance with the mages had taken place and that his presence would be needed in Haven as soon as possible.  
He sighed, though all in all the little trip had made him feel better. It was satisfying to see first hand the good they were able to do: the farmers were grateful for their help and the valley already had a new feeling to it after all they had done for its safety. More and more people through the Hinterlands were saluting the Inquisition and their agents with respect, and its Commander's visit had made quite an impression.  
On his journey back to Haven he repeated continuously to himself: “I can do it. I can do it even without lyrium. I can do it even without it”.  
An image remained in the back of his head of that blade formed scar that covered Riwan’s back.


	7. Quiet before the storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is time to gather our forces and prepare ourselves to seal the breach...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As the title of this chapter says and as Inquisitor Ameridan would suggest... let's take moment of happiness where we find them! Enjoy!

###  Quiet before the storm 

News of Riwan's alliance with the mage rebellion travelled fast. She knew that the alliance would draw a lot of unfavourable opinions towards her and her doing, but she did not care. She hadn't felt so good in years, since Hoden's attack. She held her head up proudly when they entered Haven, as soldiers and villagers greeted them and cheered, while others looked at her and Dorian suspiciously. “Here comes the big, black magister”, Dorian said, turning his nose up. “And his partner in crime”, Riwan added, making him smile. Dorian had asked her permission to join the Inquisition after the battle with Alexius and Riwan had accepted gladly: this time she even hadn’t to look towards Cassandra in search of her approving gaze, for she wouldn’t let the mage go elsewhere that it wasn’t near her.  
Though tired beyond measure and each carrying wounds from their encounter with the magister, they had chatted happily the entire way back to Haven, Varric joining them in their merry chit chat as though they were all old friends.  
“I get it that you’re Dalish, Lavellan?”, Dorian had asked her.  
“Yes, how could you possibly have understood that?”, Riwan had answered sarcastically.  
He chuckled. “Perhaps… those showy tattoos give you away a little bit”.  
Riwan raised her eyebrows. “I happen to like these tattoos of mine. What say you about your moustache then? No Fereldan would ever carry them in that fashion, if what I’ve learnt about this country is correct”.  
“No they wouldn’t, because this is a land of barbarians dressed in fur and living in caves. Oh, but this is what a Tevinter magister would say about Fereldans anyway and I’m afraid I cannot glory myself with that title yet”.  
“So, let me guess…”, Varric said inquiringly, “You Tevinters live in crystal palaces raised by magic spells and are dressed and combed in impeccable taste by your hordes of elven slaves?”.  
“More or less”, Dorian answered.  
“Well, shit”, Varric stated. Riwan felt startled by him mentioning elven slaves. She hadn’t quite thought about it, at first. Dorian was so charming that he had made her forget about that side of the matter.  
“Don’t worry, Herald”, he said after a few minutes, noticing that she hadn’t spoken for a while. “I’m not going to gloat over our slavery system. In fact, I can only say that house Pavus has been most respectful of elves as far as I know. If not so, at least I can say so for myself. I never had slaves of my own, but my family has and they are treated just fine”.  
“Right”, Riwan answered with a tiny smile, still a little dubious about it. She wasn’t really in the mood of starting a discussion concerning slavery right now.  
“Varric, what about you? I heard that you’re from Kirkwall”, Dorian swiftly changed the topic to try and keep the mood light.  
“Yes”, the dwarf replied.  
“I’ve been to Kirkwall once”, Dorian continued.  
“Yes?”.  
“How was it?”, Riwan asked.  
“Bit of a shithole, actually”, Dorian said.  
“Yes”, was Varric’s sole response.  
She passed the rest of her day in Haven bathing herself in Cora's company, as it was her custom after every mission. She was finally able to wash her hair carefully and sighed with pleasure in washing her teeth with sage and elfroot strings. There was a note on her bed signed by Josephine: a noble woman from Orlais had gifted her with satin clothes and an amulet after news of the Herald’s alliance had reached her - the woman had, infact, concealed her daughter's magic power and made her live as an apostate her entire life. She put on the beautiful white blouse on her usual leather trousers and sat down to write a message.  
“Can I go, Riwan?”. Cora asked.  
“Just a moment, da’len”. She wrote quickly on a piece of paper: ‘This I meant to give you a week ago’. She enveloped the message she had written seven days before inside the new one and tied them both with a piece of twine. “Please, give this to the Commander as soon as possible”, she said. She paced to and fro in her cabin for a few minutes, vibrating with tension and anticipation, thinking: ‘Is he reading it right now? Will he keep it for later?’.  
She quickly thought about their adventure in Redcliffe: it had been terrifying, but she felt better now, she was calm and she could think straight. She glanced at her glowing mark briefly. Wouldn’t keeper Deshanna approve of it all? She surely would - she had, in fact, written to her in one of her letters: “Da’len, I am proud and happy to hear of all the good things you are doing with the Inquisition. Use this opportunity well. Mythal ma ghilana”. A shiver ran through her spine when she recalled Alexius’ words about the Venatori and the Elder One… but oblivious to all non concrete threats and bold - or reckless - as she was, she soon discarded the thought. When she thought of _that other thing_ , however… _that_ she couldn’t get a hold on. That… acquaintance with an ex templar. He had actually been the first templar with whom she had ever spoken to: she was so scared at first, but he had proven to be quite different from what she had expected him to be. True, he resented the order and had abandoned it due to his disillusionment towards its purposes... Still, his whole person had been formed inside it and she thought she would find in him a zealot, someone intolerant towards mages and those opposing the Chantry order… . She had actually thought these things about a lot of people in the Inquisition, at first, yet all it took was to state decidedly that she had her own culture, that no Exalted March could take it away from her, and they had more or less let her be. Nonetheless, the Commander was the one who left her more appalled about herself and had made her feel occasionally ashamed in front of her mental images of Brian and Orawen: all of her oaths of vengeance had vanished suddenly into nothing for what? Just because a sturdy and severe ex templar had chatted with her from time to time and taught her how to use daggers? She would give herself more credit, it was more than that. But what it really was, she still couldn’t decide. Surely that could wait until another day, anyways, for it was dinner time now.  
Despite some of her companions expressing their dissent about her decision, they all dined in peace in the back room of the tavern, knowing that soon they would have to face the breach and perhaps these Venatori themselves, if they happened to become more of a threat than they expected. There was also the matter of this ‘Elder One’ to investigate, as Cassandra heartily reminded a roast-beef chewing Riwan ... but not tonight.  
Riwan decided not to ask herself what would happen after, feeling her heart sink in her chest if the thought of having already finished the Inquisition's business crossed her mind. After four years of feeling useless and pitiful now she had found a place that she quite liked. She was finding every day harder to think that she would have to go back to her clan. Of course she missed them and loved them but… would the Inquisition have been only a parenthesis in her life? Was she meant just to… go back and live in the woods, without taking place in this rambling, chaotic world anymore?  
She was sitting next to Dorian, trying to make him feel comfortable with the new environment, though he did seem to get by quite splendidly by himself, thanks to his cunning manners and witty remarks. Surely, all the table’s attention was catalyzed towards him, his eccentric and sophisticated look and way of speaking. Riwan herself was enjoying his words beyond measure.  
She felt she could tell the same from the look on some of her companions’ faces, Varric or Blackwall for example; but not Bull. The qunari was the only one who refrained from making a better acquaintance with the mage and joined the conversation only to make stingy jokes about Tevinter magisters. Dorian, however, seemed unshaken by them. ‘Well, he must be used to these sorts of puns…’, Riwan thought. “Dorian is not a magister, he’s an altus”, she said, jumping into the conversation.  
“You are a quick learner, Lavellan”, Dorian observed.  
“Rrright…”, Bull said, “I don’t see what’s the difference there. He still is associated with magisters”.  
“Oh, qunari, not only am I associated with magisters, but my family actually has a seat in the Magisterium. Scared, are you?”.  
“Yes, I am shitting my pants”, Bull said, impassive.  
“Tsk”, Dorian scoffed.  
“Ladies, since we are all here to enjoy ourselves, quit this childish argument and have another drink”, Blackwall boomed, teasing them, as he got up and replenished both Bull and Dorian’s jugs.  
They were drinking some qunari booze that Iron Bull had smuggled inside Haven and when Blackwall tried to replenish her jug too, Riwan protested in vain.  
“No, please! This thing tastes like…”.  
“Piss?”, Sera said, caustic.  
“Rotten piss”, Varric corrected her.  
Riwan tried desperately to get up, but was prevented from doing so by yet another toast made by Solas. This did really confuse her, for though his unexpected company had cheered her up at first, he had then made her feel embarrassed out of her guts when he proclaimed the toast to be in honour of her charming grace in fighting with bow and arrow. ‘He is drunk’, she thought. All the table had joined the toast with boisterous laughter and varied comments. “To the destroyer of ceilings!”, Varric exclaimed; “Hahaha! To the Herald of the ironbark!”, Bull said; “Yes, to the woman with the world at her bow!”, Blackwall said, while Sera started laughing loudly and then, interrupting herself brusquely, said: “Wha’? I thought you were gonna say bum! The world at her bum, haha, that’s something, innit?!”. Riwan drained what was left of the booze in her jug in one gulp and then excused herself and exited the tavern, blushing wildly. She was in serious need of a toilet break and some water to soothe her throat. She made it to the door and was almost out, when she bumped face first into Cullen's armour plate and hit her forehead hard on it.  
She crouched down groaning and holding her head, moaning “Ouchy ouchy ouchy...”, while Cullen stared at her wide eyed and said: “Maker, I'm sorry! I wasn't minding where I was going...”.  
She got up, still keeping a hand on her head and she finally looked at him, as his concerned expression made finally way to his kind smirk, which she had longed to see for some time. She knew immediately that she had been forgiven and she stepped further away from the tavern as he followed her.  
“As you may have heard, Commander, I found an ally in the mages, though I didn't expect the negotiations to be so draining”. She started to talk immediately, in order to avoid for a moment the inevitable revelation of his opinion on her message.  
“Really, isn't time travelling a common thing among the Dalish?”, he asked. She looked at him with joking disapproval as they reached the training fields, where, seeing no one around, he stopped and tried to say something. He looked up and scratched the back of his neck while he articulated some words, while Riwan tugged nervously at her hair, being at a loss herself on what they were meant to say to each other.  
“I, uhm... Herald, I mean, Lavellan. Can I...”.  
“So I get it that you received my message?”, she cut him short, looking at him expectantly.  
He relaxed and looked at her while a smile spread on his face reaching his eyes. “Yes. I wanted to thank you. I was deeply troubled by our last exchange and I felt that I didn't give you enough credit and that I didn't have a chance to explain myself either”. He stopped and drew a breath. He had said those words in a rush, almost as if he had rehearsed the speech for some time.  
“Don't worry, Commander. There’s no need to speak of this… incident anymore. I feel like we will understand each other better from now on”. She said conclusively and then she instantly cursed herself for having cut the conversation short, but feeling relieved at the same time: she had embarrassed herself enough in front of him, it was better not to indulge in such a habit of hers. She yearned to know what he might think of her after her unhappy exploit, but at the same time she didn’t want to. If he thought ill of her and her behaviour, whatever was his opinion on the way too personal story she had recounted him, she’d rather not know right now. Everything was really messy in her head. Every borderline was unclear and she felt as if she had gone way over his head.  
“Of course”, he answered promptly, a little bit puzzled, “I mean, I hope so. I hope we will be able to cooperate like the others do, as... friends... I mean, if that's ok with you...”.  
“Yes, friends...”, she said, studying his face with narrowing eyes, trying to decipher his expression. “It’s all right for me”.  
The moment stretched and soon it became awkward enough. “Well, I suggest that you ready your templars Commander, for a lot of mages are expected to arrive soon”.  
He laughed: “I assure you that I'm not concerned for them, but for your own safety. Our safety”, he added quickly, “We will just keep an eye out if anything strange may happen. But I'm confident that it won't. I mean, I hope so”.  
They started to walk back, Cullen towards the tavern and Riwan to her cabin.  
“It may also surprise you to know that some templars have left the order to join us. Without any invitation needed. So, I guess we should be satisfied”, he added.  
“Indeed”. Another awkward moment ensued.  
“Well, I... Good night, Lavellan”.  
“Good night, Commander”.  
That night, before going to sleep, he read her letter for the umpteenth time and smiled to himself.

_Commander, I feel that I have failed in excusing myself last night and that I implicitly put a blame on you that you didn't deserve. In addition to this, I made a complete fool of myself in front of you and coerced you into listening to my blabbering._  
_I understand that the behaviour of a single man does not determine the nature of a group, as on the other hand the behaviour of a group does not necessarily define the character of the single man._  
_I am ashamed of what I have said and what I have suggested with my words, for I myself have been a victim of prejudice._  
_I hope that you will forgive me and that you will give me a chance to prove myself deserving of your esteem._  
_Riwan_


	8. The will that is Corypheus

That night she fully understood why Varric had opted for crazy as her nickname. As she stood there in front of that ancient Darkspawn calling itself Corypheus, she only felt like laughing. Laughing incredulously at that self-proclaiming god who doubled her height and exuded evil magic and smelled like rotten corpses, just like the dragon that blocked the way at her shoulders. She had let her party go and she had stayed there, her role was to buy them time, be the bait and hope to survive long enough for them to run away. She looked at that indescribable thing in front of her and she felt laughter piling up her throat.  
“This must be the death of me”, she thought, “I wouldn't be so lucid otherwise”.  
Had she known that in a few hours she would have died she would have made the best out of the celebrations in Haven. She would have acted irresponsibly and eaten more cake and drank more booze. She would have joined the dancing couples and sang with Sera and Bull. She would have hugged Cassandra and all of the advisors for their work and patience. She would have saluted them all and she would have liked to see Cullen looking at her with that smug smirk on his face just for one more time.

It took them some time to actually decide to gear up and seal the breach. First of all for practical reasons: it would take a while for the mages to reach Haven and in the meanwhile they had to make sure that they had enough space and accommodation for them all. Then, for political reasons: since the alliance had been proclaimed, Riwan and the advisors had been submerged by crows and messengers as it seemed that everyone in Thedas demanded their attention. They were busy coming and going from Haven and receiving guests and travelling all around to meet with someone or to close rifts or to save someone else.  
They even had to arrange a trip to the Fallow Mire, where, to Dorian's greatest relief, Riwan had to bring with her Vivienne instead of him or Solas, for the undead were said to be vulnerable to fire.  
It was one of the worst weeks in her entire life: when they were not fighting corpses or demons or Avvars, Varric and Riwan spent their time complaining and making disgusted noises that rivalled Cassandra's ones. The Seeker was soon put out and followed them around more grumpily than before. As for Vivienne herself, Riwan had dreaded her company, for the mage had made quite clear that she utterly disapproved of her alliance with the rebellion. Riwan was surprised to find in her a polite companion, even nice, and she ended up admiring the mage's less noisy way to cope with the disgusting Mire. After four torturing days in the always rainy and gloomy place they finally reached the Avvar's fortress, where a group of Inquisition soldiers had been taken captive – ‘Unless they're not dead yet’, the elf thought to herself. They somehow survived the legion of undead that welcomed them in front of the main gate only thanks to a fire wall that Vivienne could keep up long enough for Riwan to run and find a lever that could close the access to the fort.  
“I'm glad to tell you that we're almost out of healing potions!”, Varric exclaimed, as they climbed towards the fortress.  
“How nice of you to remind us of it, darling”, Vivienne retorted, exhausted from her last effort and draining her last lyrium bottle.  
They were all starting to hate each other deeply. “Let's get this over with”, Riwan said, eager to put an end to their struggle.  
In the end they defeated the Avvar's chief and rescued the soldiers. When they arrived back in Haven she was saluted as the triumphant winner of a bloody duel and nothing she said could make them change their minds: the truth had been that she had managed to kill Korth only by accident. The man seemed immune to fire and only by chance Vivienne was able to conjure a lightning bolt from time to time, the only thing that seemed to slow him down. Cassandra had been stoic, if not heroic, in keeping him at bay with her perfect guard, while Varric and Riwan had taken care of the archers pouring arrows down on them from the stairs that faced the main hall of the keep. After what seemed like an eternity made of aiming and shooting and avoiding and trying to stay alive and when it seemed that they were all about to die, Riwan had decided to aim yet another explosive shot directed to the man's feet, only to trip on a brick at the last moment and to shoot the arrow at the ceiling. The impact of the shot made a fierce sound and they all escaped just in time to see part of ceiling collapsing on Korth’s head.  
“Let them believe what they wish to believe, Herald”, Cassandra said when they met for the first time after their return, “It will only be good publicity for the Inquisition and for you”. She smiled, secretly proud of their achievements.  
Amidst all of those obligations, she tried to spar with Cullen whenever she or he had time. One morning she woke up to find a note written by the Commander himself, asking her to meet him in armour at the training fields at 10 am, if she could. She went there confident enough that he had invited her to a sparring session but to her surprise she was asked instead to give an archery lessons to some of the new recruits that had reached the Inquisition in the last month. She hesitantly agreed, completely at a loss of what was expected from her.  
“I'll leave you to it”, Cullen said, following his shield and weapon soldiers on the other side of the training fields.  
The most embarrassing moments of her life ensued, where she found herself in the middle of all those expectant faces waiting for her to reveal some secret truth to archery that may give them the key to the art of bow and arrows.  
“Well, hello everybody. Uhm... I'm not sure why your Commander would want me to teach you something, because I'm sure that he has a lot of soldiers more fitting to the position... . Wow, what a great way to introduce myself!”, some of them laughed, “Well, as some of you may know I was a hunter before arriving here and being a... killer? Oh, no, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it in a bad way”, some laughed, some looked at her like she was a madwoman, “Anyway, what say you, I can start with the basis of what my hahrens told me and add something that I learnt in my months here, I guess”.  
The practical part went far more better than the spoken one and in the end they continued until all the other soldiers were already gone and only the Commander and one of his lieutenants remained there, contemplating the scene from a distance.  
She looked sideways towards them while surveilling the recruits and felt in someway annoyed by seeing them chatting comfortably enough and… laughing?! Was he laughing at what she was saying?  
“I’m sorry Herald… Herald! Is my position correct?”, a blond and shy girl was waiting for her answer.  
“Oh, I’m sorry, I was distracted… Did you ask me something?”, Riwan said, coming back to her senses.  
When her lesson was finished she was satisfied enough to see the recruits thanking her, some of them were even beaming and thanked her personally.  
She reached the Commander and the lieutenant - she remembered her being called Lynette or Lysette. ‘Of course, she is a templar, they must have a lot in common’, she thought.  
“So, it seems it went quite well!”, the Commander said.  
“Herald. Good job”, the woman said.  
“Well, yes, I somehow managed to do it. I would have appreciated if you would have told me in advance of this sick plan of yours though, Commander. I’m not used to teaching...”.  
He gave a curt laugh and said, “Of course, I’m sorry, Lysette and I had this epiphany this morning”, Lysette laughed too and they looked at each other in amusement, “We thought that it would be a great incentive for the new archers to have such a distinctive figure as a teacher from time to time. If you like the idea we could organise some lessons and we could ask Varric too. I don’t mean to burden you, of course! I would ask Sera too, but I highly doubt she would willingly agree to it…”.  
They made small talk for a few minutes as Riwan mastered the fakest smile she could find in her arsenal before she could escape from their grip.  
‘I shouldn’t be jealous’, she thought to herself. ‘We are friends and it’s okay if he doesn’t feel as at ease with me as he seems to be with her. And why should I care’, she continued, ‘we don’t need to chat more than is needed for our cooperation to run smoothly’.  
During that week she also managed to gift everyone with some weapon or piece of armour made of ironbark, as she had dearly wished to from the beginning of their journeys. She equipped Bianca with a new scope and handle, much to Varric’s delight. They passed an entire afternoon shooting targets and he even blew a dummy off the ground. Cassandra didn’t go gentle on their activity, but was soon sedated when Riwan presented her with her new, shiny greaves and gauntlets. “I want you to be well protected, Cassandra”, she said. “You are the biggest ruffian that ever set foot in Ferelden, you know that, don’t you?”, the Seeker said, but smiled and blushed shyly contemplating her gift. She then provided the mages with spikes for their staffs, making sure that Dorian received the fanciest one. “Thank you, I shall impale our enemies with even more grace now”, he said. She then provided Bull with a new spaulder, Blackwall with a hilt and Sera with a sturdier handle for her bow. ‘I’m the goddess of gifts’, she thought, satisfied with herself.  
Eventually, the time came for them to seal the breach.  
The day was solemn. It seemed like all of Haven’s inhabitants had poured on the narrow streets just to catch a glimpse of the Herald and her entourage as they were headed to the remains of the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Riwan felt excitement shaking her very own bones as she walked at a measured pace on the stony path. Cassandra was on her right and Solas on her left. The mages assigned to the task of assisting her with her duty followed suit, guided by Fiona herself. Cullen followed them with a contingent of soldiers and templars who would be assigned to watching the perimeter of the temple and the area surrounding the breach.  
Solas sensed Riwan’s distress and said quietly: “Don’t worry, lethallan. Keep focused on the mark and be steady on your goal. You can do it”.  
She shot him an insecure glance: “Thank you, lethallin. I hope so”.  
They reached the breach and Riwan steadied her ground in front of it. Her eyes could hardly stand its green glow and her mark was emitting sparks and bolts that made her shiver through her whole body.  
“Whenever you’re ready, Herald”, Cassandra said. Riwan gave a curt nod and took a few steps forward.  
“Mages!”, Solas shouted, “Focus your power on the Herald! Let her will draw from you!”.  
Riwan shot a final glance behind her shoulders. She saw the mages focus, their staffs starting to sparkle in different colours and with different elements as they thrusted them towards the ground, some kneeled, while others bowed their heads as if in prayer. She felt their power surrounding her as she took a deep breath and moved forward, eyeing the gigantic rift in front of her and letting herself be guided by her intuition, as she raised her arm and forced her open hand forward towards the electric sensation of the green strands of the Veil.  
She felt a jolt as of electricity or fire inside her, but she couldn’t and wouldn’t avert her hand from its purpose, the magic surrounding her keeping her standing, feeding her of the energy that was being drained from her. She felt a fissure in the breach, she sensed it giving slowly in: she focused all her might towards that crevice, forcing it to submit to her will. After a few seconds of impasse she yelled as she gave a final push to the flaps of the Veil.  
It shattered, the impact of both magics so strong that it pushed them all to the ground. Dust covered them as they eventually got up, coughing and panting, the exhausted mages shook from head to toes. Cassandra was the first one who regained her senses: she immediately bolted from her position towards the centre of the explosion, anguish assaulting her heart, for who could survive such an unnatural event, such a blast of magic from the Fade?  
But she saw her slowly standing up. “Herald!”, she cried out, as she catched her before Riwan could stumble on the ground. The elf’s face was soaked in sweat, she was panting deeply and looked burnt out; she smiled at her. “You did it. You did it, Herald”, the Seeker looked fondly at her. People all around them cheered , they shouted her name, mages and soldiers were exchanging embraces. Solas smiled at Riwan from afar. She did it.  
Celebrations took place in all of Haven, bonfires were erected and bards played. Everyone left their duty to commemorate the day that the Herald of Andraste sealed the breach and freed them from the demons and from terror. Cakes had been baked and the advisors joined the celebrations, all seemed oblivious of ranks and titles and drank and ate together. The heavens seemed to be smiling upon them again.

This had happened just a few hours ago, but it seemed in that moment like it had happened in someone else’s life. She knew that she had only to close her eyes to recall all of their faces, but not now. She knew that she may be a few steps away from seeing Brian again, but not right now. Right now she was all alone, she had to buy them time, she had to grant them their survival. Now she facing Corypheus and his dragon, and nothing but laughter made her avert her eyes from the horrid view.


	9. Enasal ir sa lethalin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everybody, I hope you're liking the story so far!  
> This in this chapter is one of my favourite moments.... :)  
> Feel free to comment! Also, next week I'll be away on a business trip, so I won't be able to upload next chapter as I usually  
> do. I'll manage to do it on the weekend, as soon as I come back! Have a nice read!

###  Enasal ir sa lethalin 

Cold. Freezing cold. She felt her face glued to the ground and her limbs paralyzed by that freezing sensation. She opened her eyes: earth brown ground and gravel under her. She tried to get up and numerous shocks of pain ran through her body as soon as she lifted herself, cutting her breath, making her head spin and her field of vision turn momentarily black as she collapsed again.  
‘All right, take it easy. Take it easy’, she thought. ‘Deep breaths, smooth movements, one part at a time’.  
It took her a few minutes to get up and to make a quick damage assessment: right ankle out of play; right knee hurt; right arm out of play. She looked around her: she was in a cave, in some sort of underground tunnel…. ‘Think, think, think. I fell from over there’, she thought, seeing a hole in the ceiling further behind her, under which a pile of snow and debris had fallen, blocking the exit. ‘It would be too high, anyway’. She was cold and wet and hurt. Panic started to devour the pit of her stomach. Images of what had happened the Creators knew how many hours before started to rush wildly in her head: the Venatori had attacked Haven, she had been blocked there by Corypheus and his dragon, she had let him talk and talk - about the Golden City, which was black and empty, about how he claimed the godhood that he thought he deserved. He tried to tear the anchor away from her hand - anchor, that was the name of the green gash in her hand and he claimed he owned it, that its use was to rip open the Fade and that she was using it now against its purpose. He had an orb in his hand, which he carried greedily, where part of that power had been bestowed. And then, when finally the signal had come, when she knew that the others were safe, it was she, Riwan, who had cut the rope of the trebuchet with a dagger. The rocks that the machinery had cast against the mountain caused a majestic avalanche and she had run and run and… .  
‘If I fell forward… Haven must be behind me, this must be the old mine, the others must be behind the mountain behind Haven. I’ll have to get out of here and circle the mountain on the right whenever I can’. She hoped that she was right. She begged someone in her head to prove her right. She started limping forward, trying not to think of the excruciating pain that every step implied. And trying not to think about how cold it was, so cold that her fingers and her toes hurt bitterly.  
‘Go on, just go on’. She started to sing an old elven song in her head to keep her going. ‘ _Lath sulevin, lath aravel ena, arla ven_ … . A turn right, take it, take it’. She put her foot wrong and her head started spinning wildly.

When the arrow was shot, signaling that they were out of danger and had crossed the mountain pass, Cullen and Cassandra gave each other a look that shared similar thoughts. He had never seen the Seeker so shaken, nor had she seen that dread in his eyes. But they had to move on, reach the valley down below and make sure that everyone arrived there safely and that the civilians were out of danger, that the camp was set out right.  
They followed the multitude that was descending the steep path, unable to express their thoughts, unable to say what they were all thinking, that she was dead, because a mountain had literally fallen upon her head. And that wasn’t an accurate account of how things had gone because the truth was they had asked her to do it, for their own safety. And she did it. She set off, obliging her duties with no complaints, she had agreed that it was the best plan and had ran to set it in action.  
“We made her do it…”, the words escaped his lips.  
“I was with her. She volunteered. She was the only one who could do it. I should have… I should have stayed with her, I shouldn’t have escaped as soon as I got the opportunity…”.  
“She told you to do it”.  
They were empty words. They were trying to reassure each other, when the truth was that it was all their fault.  
“We have to be quick to settle and organize search parties as soon as possible. I hope that Josephine and Leliana up on the front will be already on it”.  
“Yes”, Cassandra didn’t know what to think about it, it seemed absurd to think about sending their men in search of her, yet she would have wanted to run back in that exact moment and begin the search right now, “You shouldn’t have waited for us. Shush. I know that you saw us from afar. But we could have made it…”.  
“The avalanche would have probably swallowed you all up too”.  
She sighed angrily, “It’s no use discussing about it now. Let’s find Josephine and Leliana and start the search”.

 _Arla vehn tu vir mahvir, melana ‘nehn...._ . Two despair demons had appeared. She knew she couldn’t fight them with her bow, so she raised her hand and the magic from the Fade had obliged her: a sort of electric field had appeared, the same colour and consistency of the rifts, and had trapped the two things until they had faded with horrible screams. She had smiled bitterly and continued to go on.  
_Melana ‘nehn, enasal ir sa lethalin_. An exit. Her vision was blurred again. ‘No, don’t give in’, she thought. She leaned against the wall of the cave breathing deeply. _Arla vehn tu vir mahvir_. She went on again. She was out. A fierce wind met her and nearly knocked her off her feet. Another jolt of pain through her leg. She gasped for the ache and whined when she saw a white stretch of snow all around her. ‘Where am I, where am I… . I turned right once, I have to circle around this mountain to find the pass, yes’. She thought desperately, for the only thing she could do now was to believe that she was right and that she wasn’t making it all up. It was the right direction.  
She was ankle deep in snow, she had to slow down significantly. _Melana ‘nehn, enasal…_ . There was something over there in front of her. She was panting and huffing. A cart buried in the snow. It could have been theirs or it could have been a wreckage of someone else’s disgrace for all she knew. ‘Go on. GO ON’.

They had reached the camp and Cullen had started barking orders in a controlled fury. He knew that going mad wouldn’t help and he knew how to handle every crisis situation. His soldiers mutely obeyed, looking straight in his eyes: he could feel them trying to silence their fear and insecurity by drawing from his strength and steadiness of will. He had to make them set camp in an ordered fashion, he had to set patrols… . He stayed there with them, making them understand that it was all in control. His lieutenants arrived and helped him out and after a few minutes he felt confident enough and marched in search of Cassandra. He tried to cut out of his brain the memories from earlier that night: he had seen her sitting across the bonfire; she had slowly turned in his direction and he had seen her face in the midst of the flames; after a while she had looked at him too and had smiled serenely. Not happily, as she usually did, there was a vein of sorrow in that smile. But she was serene. Then the venatori had come. She was stunned at first but she immediately became focused and fierce, her eyes had narrowed, she had commanded him to give her a plan, anything that could keep them at bay. Then, when the dragon had come and they could no longer fight, they decided to go for that damned plan, thanks to Chancellor Roderick and to that boy, Cole. He had told her something before she bolted away. She had turned for a brief moment and he had seen her smile. She had meant to look confident but he was sure that she was thinking the same thing as he was. That she was going to meet her death.  
“Cullen, there you are!”, Cassandra was with Josephine and Leliana and was putting her shield on her shoulders once more.  
“We have already sent some men all around the area”, Leliana said. Her eyes were bloodshot and she was wrapping herself up in a furry mantel.  
“Commander, Leliana, could you spare some of your men? We are going in too”, Cassandra said with an imperative tone, looking expectantly towards Cullen.  
“Of course”, he said, “Let’s go”. They marched away steadily, not hearing Josephine behind them telling them not to act like fools.

Her head was dangling from her neck. She kept going on, slower by the minute. _Enasal ir sa lethalin, enasal ir sa lethalin_. She repeated obsessively those words, they seemed the only thing that kept her awake. The song and the wolves’ howling. Every time she would nod off she heard them coming and she would start in fear and manage to barely open her eyes and continued walking. The snow arrived right at the middle of her calf. The pain in her right side was numbed by the intense cold, but every step seemed like the last one. She was flanking a patch of pine trees.  
She went on blindly. _Enasal ir sa lethalin_. Was that a campfire, on the edge of the wood? It was covered in snow. ‘Go on’. _Enasal ir sa lethalin. Enasal ir sa lethalin. Enasal ir sa lethalin_.  
She nodded off. After a few minutes, or hours, or seconds, another wolf howled. Right in her ear. She opened her eyes whimpering and shielding her face with her left arm. But there were no wolves to be seen. ‘All right, all right, I’m going on’, she told them.  
Knee deep in the snow . She stopped. The wind was so fast that she felt like she was in a blizzard now. ‘I will reach that ridge other there, I can’t go any further’, she explained to the howling wolves.  
_Enasal ir sa lethalin. Enasal ir sa lethalin_. She panted with every step she took now. _Enasal ir sa lethalin_. One step. _Enasal ir sa lethalin_. Two steps. _Enasal ir sa lethalin_. Three steps. She closed her eyes. _Enasal ir sa lethalin_. ‘If if fall, let it be from a great height, so that I will stop feeling pain’. _Enasal ir sa lethalin_. The ridge is near. _Enasal ir sa lethalin_. ‘Stop howling, I’m going on. I’m reaching the ridge, then I have to stop’. _Enasal ir sa lethalin_. Almost there. _Enasal ir sa lethalin_. ‘A campfire? Ashes?’ Only the thought of it made her choke in tears that didn’t come out of her eyes. No, it was cold. _Enasal ir sa lethalin_. She was on the ridge. She looked down and for a moment she thought that she could see, amidst the blizzard, lights shining afar. Or maybe it was her imagination. She moaned and fell on her knees.

They moved through the snow in large steps, keeping themselves in the path that Haven’s crowd had cut through it. Their bodies ached from fatigue but their will guided them forward.  
Cullen was on the front, followed suit by Cassandra and the soldiers. He looked all around him in search of something, a figure in the snow, the familiar green light sparkling from her hand. Any silhouette that stood out on the white expanse made his heart skip a beat and then his spine shiver when it turned out to be just a rock or some of their supplies fallen down a slope.  
He took the last steep steps that led him to the ridge with angry energy. The wind blew even more savagely up there and the snow covered his view. He made sure that the others were behind him then proceeded and scanned the area with a hand covering his brow.  
In front of him, down there. Was it a rock? Heart beating wildly. It was a rock. A few more steps. It moved. His heart leapt in his chest.  
“There!”, he yelled. He knew it. It must be her. He ran. It was her.  
“Thank the Maker!”, Cassandra gasped behind him. He heard the soldiers holding their breath.  
He kneeled down, shaking slightly. He took her cautiously off the snow and steadied her in a firm grip in his arms, keeping her arms and legs as tight as he could in order to prevent further damage if she had some broken bones.  
“Is she alive?”, anguish exuded from Cassandra’s voice. His heart stopped again. Her face was unnaturally white, her lips were blue, the skin around her eyes was nearly purple. The Seeker gently slapped Riwan’s cheek and the elf’s eyelids fluttered for a brief moment.  
“She is”, he whispered, exhaling heavily. “Let’s go, as quickly as we can”.  
She didn’t see them coming, she didn’t hear them. It was pitch black. Only for a moment she felt as if she was being carried and she felt her head resting on something fuzzy and warm. She felt the faint smell of blood and sweat and the faintest of all… sandalwood.  
“Cu… Cullen?”, she croaked.  
“Yes. You’re safe now. I’m taking you somewhere safe”.


	10. Something funny and stupid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Riwan wakes up after Corypheus attack on Haven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm finally home and able to upload another chapter! Hope you like it!

### Something funny and stupid 

It seemed like she was sleeping. A dreamless, deep and sound sleep. Now and then she felt like she was emerging from the bottom of that pitch black well of her consciousness only to briefly hear some voices, see a light, feel the touch of someone’s hand or a tickling sensation on her arm.   
Once or twice she could distinctly hear Solas’ voice. It soothed her and calmed her and carried a balmy sensation that spread throughout her whole body. “Lethallan, ne dareth. Banal enfanim, mala suledin. Hamin, banal theneras”. She mutely obeyed and fell in that comfortable unconsciousness every time she heard him speak.   
Someone else appeared in her dreams, another gentle voice. A boy’s voice. She couldn’t remember his name. “I’m Cole!”, he exclaimed every time that she mutely asked him. “I want to help. I’ll keep you company”. She felt serene and contemplated what she could grasp of him.  
One night she woke up for a short moment, hearing someone whispering beside her. She couldn’t make out who it was, but the smell was familiar and that person soon told her to go back to sleep, that it was too early to get up. How long was she gone? A month? Or only a few days? It was dark all around her and she couldn’t possibly know.  
If only she could have asked the healers, Dorian or Vivienne that question, they would have answered in exasperation: two days! Two entire days during which the healers took shifts in tending to the wounded and to her, getting nearly no sleep at all. When Cullen had burst in the healres’ tent after they had found her, a commotion had soon spread throughout camp. The surgeon and the healers were quick in their reaction, they put her on a cot near a lit fire, kicked out of the tent everyone except from Solas, Dorian and Vivienne and got down to work.   
How many healing spells and potions, sleeping spells and potions did they use and cast upon her? For how long did Dorian and Vivienne keep their hands over her, warming her frozen limbs with the faintest lightning and fire spell they could summon? They washed her as best as they could with hot water, and both the mages kept her toes and fingers between their hands, both terrified at the surgeon’s words: “She may need an amputation”.   
Solas helped the healers restlessly with healing spells and put her to sleep when the surgeon adjusted her broken arm.   
When they finally acknowledged that she was out of danger, the surgeon ordered that she must sleep and rest and stay warm for as long as they could afford, because the trauma had been too big and the pain from arm and ankle may not have been yet sedated. They used spells and potions again and kept her sleeping.  
When Haven’s people had seen her come back from the dead, carried by the Commander with the Seeker by his side, cheers and exaltation had swept through the camp like a wave. Now it seemed that everybody was holding their breath, fear caressed their thoughts, no one knew how she really was and they started to think that she would soon be gone.   
The advisors were struggling. They were lost amidst the mountains and they needed to find a new base soon. Another week like that and their cause would be lost: the people were hungry, cold, without a house and a purpose. They couldn't wait longer. Their best option for now was to return back down the mountain and establish a new settlement somewhere, built from scratch.   
Josephine was confident in finding help in some of the noble houses that had traded with them lately. But help was one thing, housing a community of more than a hundred people was completely another one. Leliana had sat gloomily on a crate for hours before taking action and sending crows and giving orders to her scouts. She had contacted king Alistair Therein, though she suspected that even he could do little for them.   
It was late afternoon when Riwan finally woke up. A healer was looking closely at her and when she tried to say something he immediately shushed her and recommended her not to talk.  
“Just answer my questions by moving your head, dear”. He started to ask her if her right arm hurt, then her knee and ankle; he asked her if her head and belly and spine hurt; he asked her if she could move all of her body parts; and was she sure that she felt no internal pain? If she did, she must tell them immediately.   
“Try to talk now. Tell me who you are and where you’re from”.   
They continued like this for a few minutes, then, after having made sure that she felt warm and comfortable, he left her, recommending her not to leave her bed.  
She looked around her but she could only see the green fabric of the tent under which she was lying, the fire crackling beside her and some other cots carrying sleeping people further apart.   
Cole appeared on the stool beside her with a faint pop. Strangely enough, she wasn’t scared and he didn’t startle her. He looked at her intently as she smiled weakly at him: the boy had a ragged look about him, his clothes seemed tattered but he didn’t seem to mind. He held a big hat low on his eyes and his blonde hair stood straight around his pale face.   
“Nice to see you again”, she croaked. Her throat hurt and her voice had lowered by an octave. She struggled to speak out loud.  
“You were screaming in the snow. But now you’re better. Did I help? They said I couldn’t heal you, but I knew that they weren’t right. They didn’t know what your mind was screaming. Only another one knew”.  
“You helped, Cole. Thank you. Who… How are you? Where…”, she coughed and cleared her voice with a grimace on her face. Her lips hurt too, they were dry and broken.  
“I decided to warn you. I saw the venatori guided by the Elder One and I knew that I must help. I can help you, if you’d like. Now he is so angry, you stole his mages and his power, he wants to find another way. He doesn’t care about people, he will kill us all to get to you. He wants revenge”.  
She observed him with blurry eyes and she thought that she liked him. That she felt at ease with him. She actually didn’t concentrate on the not so pleasant things that he was saying, she just listened to his voice, as it seemed that it came from him, yes, but also from within her.  
“I like you too”, he said. “Someone’s coming”, and he hastily disappeared.   
She gazed at the spot were he had been just a fraction of a second before. ‘Did I say it out loud or was I speaking…?’. She hadn’t finished her thought that a figure approached.  
“Oh… you… you’re awake”.  
She looked up towards the shadow. Cullen. She felt tears swelling her eyes but kept them at bay. She managed to smile a little and nod as her brain started to buzz. He was standing awkwardly a few feet from the cot. He eventually decided to sit on the stool next to her. He looked worn out, the circles under his eyes purple, he seemed older than she remembered. Still, the fire near him caressed his features, his hazel eyes glistened, warmer than she had ever seen them, the corner of his mouth with the familiar scar lifted in a faint smile, his hair a little unruly but still severely styled.   
“How are you?”, he said softly, keeping his voice low and shooting her quick glances, before resting his eyes on his hands that stayed helplessly and stupidly in his lap.  
“I’ve been better”, she found the strength to joke, “I’m actually great, if you think that I had already left this world when you found me”.   
He raised his eyes and managed to keep her gaze. She was still pale, but the terrifying whiteness of her face had left her cheeks and though her lips were cracked and her eyes half open, she had regained a natural colour and she was awake and, Maker, she was alive.   
“You gave us quite a scare”, he said. He paused and seemed to think for sometime. “I don’t know if I can be here, maybe you should rest…”, he hastily said, rising up from the stool.  
“Please”, she said. She put a hand on his gloved one, making him sit again. “Stay for a little bit. Let’s chat about something funny and stupid”. Tears were assaulting her eyes again and again she fought them back. She couldn’t cope with any serious talk right now and she missed home badly and the only other home that she had known, Haven, had been destroyed. She needed something to lighten her thoughts.   
Cullen observed her hand for a moment - it seemed so tiny compared to his. The mark in the middle of her palm was quiet and glowed gently. He saw the little calluses that were born from holding the bow in it, the dark red tattoos on her dark honey skin, little scars here and there, some of them even crisscrossing the intricate Dalish drawings. He cupped that tiny hand in his hands automatically, making her smile, for he seemed to her like a boy who finds a little bird on the ground and gently takes it up in his hands, shielding it from foxes and cats.  
“All right.”, he swallowed. “What do you wish to talk about?”.  
“I don’t know… I miss home, my clan, the forest… I miss the sound of the birds in the morning”, she said after a few seconds. “When I was with my clan sometimes I got up at dawn so infuriated because the crows started squawking so loud that I couldn’t sleep anymore”.  
“I know what you mean”, he said, laughing softly. He spoke no more and an embarrassing silence followed.  
“So...”, she hesitated, searching her fuzzy brain for anything to say. “Let’s talk about you…”.  
“Sweet Maker, about me?”, he said, feeling uneasy.  
“Yes”, Riwan said, attempting to smile.   
“I-uhm… I already told you almost everything there is to know about me”, he said.   
“That’s not true!”, Riwan answered. She sighed but finally got an idea. “Let’s talk about Honnleath, then. Is it true that there was a golem in your hometown? I think I read it somewhere…”.  
“It is completely true. There was a gigantic golem frozen right in the middle of Honnleath square”, Cullen said.  
“Scary…”.  
He chuckled. “You bet. When I was little I couldn’t even bring myself to go near that thing. It was right there, motionless, with a menacing look on its face and birds perched all over it… There was also a story circulating among us about that golem: they said that it had killed its former master, who was found dead right outside his front door. The golem was looming over him, but no one actually knew for sure if it was the golem itself that killed him or something else. In the end, the poor man’s wife sold its control rod to a merchant and the golem was left there”.  
“Oh, Creators…”, Riwan faintly said, smiling calmly.  
“All the kids in the village would play a game. Who dare touch the golem: we just… ran like crazy around it, until someone would barely tap it with one finger and then we all ran away screaming”, he laughed lightly. “In the end I managed to touch it once or twice…”.  
“Someone claims that the golem was awakened by the Hero of Ferelden”, Riwan said.  
“Yes, I heard that story myself. Well, if she did and she wasn’t killed by it, good for her. She has spared Honnleath’s children years of terror and nightmares”.  
“How would I have liked to see young Commander Rutherford terrified by the mere sight of a non-active golem...”, Riwan said.  
He laughed and shook his head, “You have no idea how my parents abused of that golem’s presence to keep us children well behaved. And the horrible thing was that all the threats they used to make about it weren’t so far from the truth either! I know now that it is highly unlikely that that thing would just wake up and start chasing us around town… but as a child, no one could convince me that it wouldn’t wake up at night and come after us if we happened to steal our neighbours’ cherries”, he smirked.   
Riwan snorted, and soon tried to suppress the laugh, for a headache had popped into her head as soon as she had fretted. He heard someone talking loudly outside and let go of her hand.  
“Tell me about Honnleath”, she commanded him gently. “It doesn’t seem so different from Hoden”.  
He started to describe her the village. At first he did so very accurately: Riwan was amused by his severe tone - by his description it seemed that the Commander was planning a siege of the little village with the whole army and trebuchets; then, after he saw her blink repeatedly with half-opened eyes, he described his parents to her and the pie that his mother made him for his birthday.   
She snapped her eyes open and said: “We made amazing apple pies too! We didn’t have ovens, well, I guess you can imagine that. But we baked them under the embers of the fires. We tucked them in these resistant leaves and put them in the embers. One of us, Theran, went mad when he saw Hoden’s bakery for the first time. So much for Dalish pride! He protested for days with the hahrens because he wanted an oven too! He tried to build one himself…”.  
“How did it turn out?”.  
“Not so good. He ended up visiting the bakery a few times a week and gained a little fat”.  
Cullen laughed. “It’s really nice to hear you talk about your clan. I-I mean, it seems you led quite a bucolic life”.   
“We did. Well, we lived in an actual forest so…”.  
“Right”, he cleared his voice. It wasn’t an easy task for him to make small talk. Especially when he was specifically requested to. “I-uhm, I noticed that you never speak of your parents”.  
“Oh, I always assumed that you all read Leliana’s reports about me and that you already know everything. But it isn’t my place to speak, Commander, remember? I’m injured and tired, you’re the one who should entertain me”.  
“Oh Maker…”, Cullen blurted out.   
Riwan laughed lightly, amused by the ease with which she could make him blush.“All right, all right, I will tell you something, you can just comment with subtlety what I say”.  
“I’ll do my best”, he chuckled.   
“So, I never met my father, he died soon after I was born. As for my mother, she was the head hunter of the clan and, no, I didn’t become a hunter just because she favoured me. I actually had to… bust my ass to be allowed to join them and in the end I was better than her”.  
“So it was your mother who taught you how to use the bow…”, he said.  
“Yes, it was her”, Riwan sighed.  
“I’m curious about Dalish hunting techniques, you mentioned them once during training…”, he continued.  
“The Vir Tanadhal?”, she asked.  
“Yes. Could you tell me more about it? I mean, if you want to”, he hesitantly said.  
She looked at him briefly and couldn’t repress a strong feeling, telling her how pleased she was in his genuine interest in her people’s ways and costumes. As she mutely cherished the pleasure of talking about her clan’s hunting philosophy, a new thought rapidly crossed her mind: it was the first time that she was talking to him for so long after her outburst at the tavern, and even after she had apologized to him they had never really talked about what had happened that night. This thought jumped into her mind along with the desire to know what he thought about their discussion, combined with the actual dread to know it. It made her brain hum louder than before. Should she veer the conversation towards that topic? ...not tonight. She didn’t have the strength to do it, nor the courage to hear his answer.  
They continued chatting in these idle terms for some time, until the healer came back. “Commander”, he said with a firm voice and a scolding look, “The Herald is awake but I specifically said that she was not to be disturbed yet”.  
Cullen immediately rose from the stool and gave the healer his apologies, like an obedient soldier. “Go now, in a few hours she may be fit for visit”, the healer ordered. The scene was quite comic and Riwan couldn’t suppress a chuckle. “Of course”, Cullen said. “I’m sorry Lavellan, I didn’t mean to tire you”. He smiled his smug smirk, rolled his eyes and marched away.   
As soon as he set foot out of the tent he stopped with a start in seeing Cassandra waiting for him, leaning on one of the poles that kept the tent straight.   
“There you are”, she said, with a grin on her face.  
He immediately felt accused. “I… I was just visiting her…”.  
“Yes, I meant to do so too after the healer said that she was awake, but then I saw you both quite taken with whatever you were telling each other”.  
He frowned and protested: “It isn’t… I was just making sure that she was okay. She is our… responsibility”.  
The Seeker sighed and put a hand on Cullen’s shoulder. “You are touchier than me, Commander! Don’t get me wrong, I’m just glad to see that you talk with someone else other than me. You like her!”.  
“You like her too”, he retorted.  
“I do and, unlike you, I’m not scared to admit it. I thought her to be the opposite of what I esteem in a person. She is selfish, naive, reckless, completely oblivious and not caring about Chantry values. But I found out that she is loyal. And empathetic and brave. Yes, I do like her”, Cassandra proudly said , her eyes glistening.   
He smiled bitterly, continued to frown and eventually said: “Did you need me for something, anyway?”. His tone was dismissive, as he was ready to take duty.  
“Yes. You know what her being awake means. If she can walk and she can manage it, we must depart as soon as possible. Where too, we do not know”.  
“All right. Let’s go”. 

She stayed in bed for another few hours and soon everyone from her party disobeyed the healer’s orders and came to visit her. Dorian was the first to make his entrance into the tent and to look at her apprehensively. “Do you need help dressing up, Lavellan? You can’t go around in pajamas, if we really are going to move on. I’ll fetch you something”. He returned with Cora and a bunch of clothes. The girl started to weep and whimper in seeing her awake and well and she seemed inconsolable. They helped her putting on a pair of breeches, a woolen shirt and a hunter jacket, topped by a huge scarf and gloves. She kept her back out of view, ashamed that the mage may see her scar. Cora agreed painfully to leave her and gave Riwan a wet kiss on her cheek.   
Varric arrived with Sera, who burst out as soon as she saw her sitting: “You fricking idiot! What were you thinkin’, uh? You go and make the hero and get killed by monsters, are you insane?!”.  
“I’m sorry”, Varric said, embarrassed. “I tried to instruct her into being quiet, but…”.  
“I’m not quiet! I’m not! This Herald thing has gotten into her head!”.  
The last one to visit her was Solas. She looked at him fondly and a little shily, for she was now sure that the elf had been pacing her dreams and lulled her to sleep.   
“Lethallin”, she eventually said, blushing.  
“I’m glad to see you’re alright”, his gaze was piercing and seemed deeply curious. “You have drifted into the Fade for some time…”, he said, chuckling a little.  
“Ma serannas, Solas”, she immediately burst out, feeling on the fence. “I know that you helped me. I heard you…”, she hesitated. “It must have been draining…”.  
“I did everything in my power to keep you in this world. And since you seem to remember our encounters, there is no use in denying that I may have sneaked into some of your dreams”. He still had his inquiring look on his face and he seemed somehow proud or satisfied with his actions.  
“Then I am in your debt. I was glad to hear you in my dreams and I am glad to stand in this world in front of you”, she reached for his hand, she wanted to take his and seal the life debt that she owed him. He glanced quizzically at her and seemed taken aback or surprised by her answer, but took her hand anyway and smiled.   
“As soon as you feel ready to go, there is something I’d like to talk to you about”, he said. He slightly bowed his head and quietly went away.   
She watched him leaving the tent, his pace so light that he barely left any trace of his passage on the snow. For a second, she thought she could hear the sound of the wolves howling again. But surely it was just her imagination.


	11. Skyhold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! This is a very light chapter!  
> Since july will be really full of work for me - no holidays :'( - during next month I will publish once every two weeks, so I will have enough time to review the chapters. But they are already almost done!  
> Hope you'll enjoy this one!!

##  Skyhold 

When she saw the fort from the top of yet another steep, snowy slope, she held her breath and opened her eyes wide. Solas had quickly reached her and stopped beside her: “Skyhold”, he said. No words could come out of her mouth, she laughed and looked incredulously towards the elf. She grabbed his shoulder in affection and then darted down the path, impatient to reach their destination.  
“There’s a place for us. A place that waits for the Inquisition to grow and flourish”, he had said. His words filled her thoughts while she slowly walked in the valley overlooking the gorge beyond which Skyhold stood: the valley was concealed from sight by the crest of a smaller cliff that hung above it and in the past it seemed to have hosted a fairly large village. Its buildings were in ruins, made of stone and covered in vines and moss. It must have been built after the fort’s construction, as more people had reached the place and needed housing. As for Skyhold itself, it looked majestic even from afar: it stood untouched by time and the elements on the other side of the gorge, on whose bottom a river flowed, engulfing earth and ice. She could hear the sound of a waterfall from afar and guessed that it stemmed from beneath Skyhold itself. She saw poles on the bastions ready to hold the Inquisition’s flags and balconies and windows and birds perched on its towers and flying over it. She could have sworn that the more she got closer to the fort, the more the temperature seemed to rise. As she was halfway across the bridge - they were crossing it cautiously, for they were afraid that it might collapse under their weight - she heard the exultant cries of those from Haven who had reached the top of the slope in that moment.  
She said, almost in a whisper, as if not to disturb the castle: “Solas, this place seems magical…”.  
“It is, lethallan. It has been standing proudly in these mountains for centuries and has known the touch of ancient elves. Its every stone holds memories and power beyond recognition”.  
The bridge led to the entrance of the fort and two paths stemmed from the end of the main one, one going to the left and one to the right of Skyhold walls. The fort stood on a plateau between the mountains and probably the paths led to more housings and quarters outside the main building.  
Now that an entire week had passed since their first entrance in Skyhold, she still reminisced the awe that she had felt in seeing its halls and garden for the first time, the feeling that they had been blessed or favoured by some god or spirit. There was no doubt that the place was magical, for the bitter temperatures of the Frozen Mountains didn’t reach the fort itself, and only a chilly wind disturbed the otherwise cool but not frigid atmosphere that hugged the castle.  
As soon as they had managed to organize the logistics and assigned quarters to everyone they could, restoration works had started: it was vital that both the village across the bridge and the housings and barracks behind the castle were repaired as soon as possible. A lot of soldiers and civilians lay in tents in Skyhold’s main court or had cots set up in some of its numerous halls, waiting for houses to be secured or rebuilt.  
At the advisors’ insistence, Riwan was placed in possibly Skyhold’s biggest room, which was situated in one of its towers and accessible from the castle’s main hall. It had huge, adorned windows that looked onto a balcony suspended on the cliff below, a little closet and a luxurious bathroom with a tub inside and even a more luxurious toilet with an underground pit. They had let her rest for a few days and she had been subjected to accurate exams from the healers and the surgeon before they could finally agree with her that she was well enough. In the meanwhile, furniture had been delivered to her room, and she could count among all of her facilities a big bed, a couch and a wooden writing desk.  
One day, a note was delivered to her by Cora. It carried Josephine’s fine handwriting and it asked her to join the advisors the morning after in Skyhold’s main court. She had been eating dried fruit and reading books in front of her big, lit chimney with Dorian for some time when the message reached her and she didn’t think very much of it in that moment, since it was natural that she may eventually get back to work.  
“Lavellan, you may expect quite a few visits from me, since you seem to have the finest treatment here. Not that I should complain about my room, but my balcony isn’t as big as yours”, Dorian said, lazily resting on a cushion and warming his feet at the fire’s heat.  
She discarded her book and laughed lightly - laughing, another luxury which she had dearly missed in the aftermath of Haven. “You seem jealous, Dorian. How about we set free another ancient magister to go after you? This could earn you at least a main room on the battlements with a toilet like mine”.  
He scoffed at her and made a dismissive gesture: “You silly elf, hadn’t I combed your hair after they dug you out of the snow you would have shaved your head entirely, it was all knots and frizz. I don’t think the bald style would have suited you like it does Madame De Fer”.  
“It does suit her. ...and do you think it would suit Dorian Pavus, the finest mage Tevinter could produce through its relentless years of dinasty grooming?”.  
“Oh, I would carry the most elegant bald head of Thedas. I would rival Solas’ one for shine and smoothness…”.  
They both burst out laughing. Riwan was so caught in fits of laughter that she threw at him a few raisins. Dorian stopped them in mid air with a quick gesture of the hand and ate them before beginning to laugh again. As of lately, the enjoyed teasing Solas pretty much, though Riwan didn’t really know what was so comic about it.

Even if she woke up early the next morning, she still managed to be late for her appointment with the advisors, for she lost her way several times while trying to go from one side of Skyhold to the other. She should have theoretically gone on a straight line from the main hall to the main court, but she ended up in one of the chambers situated on the bastions and only after ten solid minutes could she find the right flight of stairs that led her to her destination.  
What followed in the next hour had been crazy: she was now the Inquisitor.  
She brooded over that title in her head that evening, her bare feet on the bedpost, her head on the soft covers.  
It had been the result of an ambush perfectly planned and orchestrated by all of the advisors: Cassandra had cleverly led her in Skyhold's main court, discussing about their new political and strategic position in order to distract her from the crowd that was being gathered in the courtyard by Cullen and Josephine. She shivered in reminiscing Leliana bowing to her, a sword in her hands - Leliana, bowing. Riwan had objected, of course. Strongly objected. She was Dalish, she knew nothing about politics or Andraste - and most importantly she wasn't fit for leading.  
Leading a group of specialized hunters in the forest to catch a deer was a different thing from leading an enormous organization and its army and spy network and diplomats and... . Mythal'enaste. None of what she had said could shake Cassandra from her faith in their decision and _in her_. She had praised her strong will and her decision-making ability and most importantly her neutrality.  
She started to feel bad, was it a panic attack? She felt like she could barely breathe. She brought her marked hand close to her face, the tingling sensation making her skin itch. She would have been satisfied enough in maintaining the position that had been assigned to her since the beginning... between the advisors, not above them. Her destiny had been signed a long time ago: the explosion at the Temple of Sacred Ashes had started it all and then Corypheus had attacked her and perhaps she was the only one who could take him down. It was all because of the anchor.  
Someone knocked at her door. No sooner had she gotten up saying: "Who is it?!", than Dorian and Varric entered unceremoniously her room.  
"Lavellan! I've brought Antivan wine smuggled from the kitchen as a token of my respect", Dorian announced himself.  
As soon as they reached her floor they stopped on their tracks.  
"Shit. Bad time?", Varric said, seeing her red eyes and the furious look she carried.  
"No, guys, just - come in. I'm just... adjusting to my new title", Riwan said, exhaling loudly.  
"Didn't like the ceremony?", Varric joked.  
"It was not to my taste". She chuckled lightly and started playing uncomfortably with her hair.  
"Come, come, let's sit down", Dorian said, putting the bottle of wine on the floor and tossing three cushions from the sofa to the ground in front of the fire. Varric followed his example and put three glasses beside the bottle, sitting awkwardly down soon after.  
"What's wrong with being called Inquisitor? Didn't you despise being called the Herald of Andraste?", Dorian went on, grabbing Riwan by her shoulders and making her sit on one of the pillows. He sat between her and Varric and started pouring wine.  
"I hated it", Riwan said.  
"Then ‘Inquisitor’ must be an improvement, is it not?". He handed her a full glass of red, vermillion, spicy wine.  
Riwan took a few sips and grimaced. "It is not”.  
"And why is that? Could you care explaining it to us?".  
"Do you really think that I am capable of it? Of- of leading the Inquisition? I'm just - I'm just a Dalish elf. I came here in Ferelden because I was looking for my sister! I didn't ask for any of this to happen to me! And here I am! I'm gone from home for a few months and all this...", she  
looked at Varric for a brief moment, searching for the right word to say. "All this shit has rained down upon me!".  
Varric nodded slightly, looking at his feet and swallowing a big gulp of wine. "That's right...", he said under his breath.  
"How do they expect me to lead them? Just because I fought for my own survival until now it doesn't mean that I have the skills for... for being the Inquisitor! I thought Cassandra knew better than this. Wasn't she supposed to be the big one?".  
She had given in to her anger and her eyes darted from Dorian to Varric. The mage was looking at her with a placid expression, his eyebrows slightly raised.  
"She was not", Dorian said.  
Riwan gulped, putting the glass she was holding on the ground in front of her. Her hands shook a little and she couldn’t control them. "What do you mean?".  
"You have always been the one. As unwilling as you are. We are all following you. And I believe in you. I have faith in you", Dorian said.  
Riwan was speechless. She tried to say something but she couldn't articulate a full sentence.  
"Everything you've done so far wasn't for yourself alone, and you know it. And how many times do we have to remind you that we are all here to help you? For our own motives, sure. But you're the reason that brings us together. Your ability to do good and our capacity to help you in doing so".  
"I can't...", she weakly said .  
Dorian sighed and raised his eyes. "This title is just a formality, Riwan dear. A new shiny word to replace Herald of Andraste - it's not fashionable anymore in Val Royaux. You just have to carry on exactly the way you have done up until now".  
"I- agree with sparkles, here", Varric hesitantly said. "I don't know if it's your steadfastness,  
your... naivety or simply because you're crazy, but... you've done amazing things until now.  
I mean! You survived a darkspawn magister and an entire mountain thrown over your head. And all of this you did after coming out of an explosion that spared no one in the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Not to mention the fact that you literally walked out of the Fade. You're going through all of this... unflinching. You are our leader and a quite intimidating one, if you ask me...".  
"You're both exaggerating". Riwan watched intently the wine sending sparkling reflexes on the walls when hit by the firelight, not able to stand her companions’ gaze. "You would have done the same, if this had happened to you".  
"But it happened to you...", Dorian laughed.  
Riwan sighed and rested her heavy head in one of her hands, caressing the bridge of her nose.  
"Shitty thing, eh?", Varric said.  
"Yes...".  
"A toast then! To the Inquisitor! And to all the shitty adventures that brought her here!", Varric exclaimed.  
"Cheers!", Dorian said, swallowing the full glass of wine immediately after.  
“At least it brought me to meeting you...", Riwan said, before drinking a big gulp of hers.  
"How sweet of you!", Dorian said. “You make me almost feel glad to be in the South!”.  
“What’s wrong with the South, I like it! Don’t you agree, Varric? I mean, it’s not like the Free Marches but…”.  
“Well… I’m not sure I could be an impartial judge on the matter. You see, Kirkwall is my hometown-”.  
“And that’s why you should be glad of your new surroundings!”, Dorian said.  
“Ehh, Kirkwall wasn’t so bad after all. The gallows, Darktown, Hightown, it was very… characteristic”.  
“And Fereldan refugees…”, Dorian said.  
“Crazy templars”, Riwan added.  
“Hordes of blood mages too”, Dorian went on.  
“I know, I know it all sounds bad when I speak of it. But, trust me, Kirkwall had its positive aspects…”.  
“It’s a good thing that one of its positive aspects followed you here…”, Dorian said, grinning.  
Riwan looked at him questioningly.  
“And that would be?”, Varric asked.  
“Why, Kirkwall’s handsome Knight-Captain”, Dorian exclaimed.  
"What!?", Riwan blurted out, while Varric started laughing heartily.  
"Riwan, you’re so naive!". The mage had an excited smile on his face.  
“Believe me, he wasn’t so handsome back then!”. The dwarf, on the other hand, raised his eyebrows at their highest capacity.  
“I often ensure to casually be hanging around the barracks in the morning in order to see our mighty warriors train…”, Dorian said with a mischievous grin.  
“Dorian…”, Riwan muttered, feeling her cheeks growing warm.  
"Inquisitor, inquisitor! Perhaps you wish to know their usual training time? Care to join me?”.  
“No, thank you!”, Riwan vehemently said.  
“Well, I’m sure that you’ll all see another good thing from Kirkwall other than its former Knight-Captain. Inquisitor, I would like you to meet with my… secret help for the Inquisition. Let’s say that it’s a personal gift that I want to give to you”, Varric said.  
“Oh, really? And what - I mean who, would that be?”. Riwan tried to cool her blushing cheeks by eagerly following Varric’s new train of thought.  
“You’ll discover it soon enough…”, Varric chuckled. “I will arrange a meeting, if it’s all right for you. Just… keep it quiet, if you know what I mean”.  
“Whatever you wish, Varric”.  
“Very well, then. Another round?”.  
“Yes, please”, Dorian said. “This Antivan wine surely is fine!”.  
“Oh Mythal, he is rhyming”, Riwan said.  
“Sparkles, can you really hold your liquor? Weren’t you all parties and banquets in Tevinter?”.  
“I was, and I hold my liquor better than Lavellan here, who hasn’t finished her first glass yet”.  
“You know that this is too strong for me, Dorian. I prefer ale…”, Riwan complained.  
“How will I ever educate you!”, Dorian said.  
“One would swear that you are a born Fereldan, crazy”, Varric said, laughing under his breath.  
“At least I do not seem Orlesian…”, Riwan said, grinning.  
“At least you’re not, child. And it’s a true relief”.  
“A toast for all of us who are not Orlesians!”, Dorian announced.  
In that moment Solas, who had knocked on Riwan’s door and had received no answer, reached the Inquisitor’s room, lured there by the laughter and heated talk that could be heard from the bottom of the stairs. He stopped in front of the poor show of the three friends drinking on the ground.  
They looked at him for a moment and then they all started laughing out loud. The elf was impassable and carried a slightly disgusted expression.  
“Chuckles! Come sit with us!”, Varric said.  
“Come, I’ll fetch another glass, I’m sure I have one somewhere around here”, Riwan said.  
“Have you come here to lecture us on the Fade?”, Varric laughed.  
“Well, if that’s the case, please feel free to do so. We are all in a good mood!”. Dorian exchanged an amused look with Varric.  
“No, I-”, Solas tried to say something.  
“Sit!”, Varric ordered him. “You could loosen up from time to time”.  
“This is Antivan Vermillion, year 9:22”, Dorian said, holding the bottle high in the air.  
Solas’ eyes glistened subtly.  
“Antivan Vermillion year 9:22?”, he repeated, almost enraptured.  
“It’s the one”, Dorian said.  
“All right”, Solas said. “Still better than tea”, he added, as if to excuse himself.  
He sat down decidedly on the ground as Riwan filled his glass.  
“A toast”, Dorian proclaimed. “To… the most brilliant head of the Inquisition!”.  
And Solas joined the toast, unsure as of why his three companions were laughing so wildly.


	12. Lift me from a world of pain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, I managed to review and edit this chapter a little earlier than expected!  
> Hope you enjoy it guys! Next one in another ten days or so!!

##  Lift me from a world of pain

_O Maker, hear my cry:_  
_guide me through the blackest nights._  
_Steel my heart against the temptations of the wicked._  
_Make me to rest in the warmest places._

____"Aren’t you gonna greet an old friend?".  
He had barely entered his study and approached his desk when that mocking voice rang out behind him. So it was true. Even if he had desperately tried not to believe what Leliana, a furious Cassandra and even the Inquisitor herself had told him - it was all true. The slightest feeling of a newborn headache rose in his mind.  
"Come, shake my hand".  
She was standing beside one of the doors, all mockery and sass, the staff on her back enormous and showy. Her grin was diabolical.  
"What are you still doing here?", he managed to say, reluctantly shaking her outstretched hand.  
"One would expect a warmer welcome from a former companion in arms!".  
He grunted and turned towards his desk, he had work to do. "You haven't answered my question".  
"I've come with news for your Inquisitor. Already delivered them. Varric has asked me to linger around for some time and I thought 'Why not!'".  
"Of course you did...".  
"And why not pay a visit to Cullen, check on how he is doing".  
He glared at her.  
"Well, he is in high spirits, as always... . I must say that your new boss looks like a clever woman. It's a great improvement compared to Kirkwall, don't you agree? Strong supporter of mage rights. Who would have guessed that Kirkwall's Knight-Commander- oh sorry, it's just Commander now, right?". She was looking dismissively at her nails. The nerve of that woman…  
"I trust that since your business here is finished you will leave us for good?".  
She grinned again, he knew that there was nothing he could say that would make her even flinch.  
"I've got a mission to accomplish with that Inquisitor of yours, Commander".  
Maker, his head was going to explode- if only a spell purge would exhaust her capacity to rant.  
"We're going on a trip to Crestwood and then, who knows...".  
"Unfortunately, I already know what you’re up to. I trust that you won't endanger Lavellan unnecessarily-".  
"Cullen, do you honestly believe that I would endanger-”.  
“Yes”.  
“That was quick”.  
“Did you understand? Do not endanger Riw- the Inquisitor-”, he growled from behind his desk, cursing himself from having let that name almost slip from his lips.  
“So Varric was right, you have a bit of a soft spot-eh? I shouldn't be the one to talk though-".  
"What-?!". She was laughing carelessly as if she hadn't just said the most unbelievable absurdity. “It’s not- I’m the Commander of the Inquisition and it is my duty-". That obnoxious smile wouldn’t leave her face. “Nevermind that. Have you understood what I’ve told you?”.  
"Yes, yes, yes I have. Your duty, your job. Well, some things never change. Don't worry Cullen, I'll bring her back in one single piece. And if anyone dares so much as touch her… fireball to the face, just like old times. Trust me".  
He sighed. He remembered all too well Kirkwall’s last battle, one of her fireballs missing him by an inch, its smouldering body passing near his face, even though apparently it was directed to one of those walking statues... “I’ve got your back!”, she had yelled at him. No, he did not trust her. Not at all. But what could he do? Her help would be vital against Corypheus - if that warden friend of hers was even the slightest reliable. His headache was becoming unbearable.  
“Right…”, he grumbled.  
She finally took a few steps towards the door. Maker, just go away.  
"Not even a single hair will be plucked from that pretty head!".  
She was gone. Praise Andraste. But the headache tormented him all day long.  
Dorian asked him to play chess. He managed to win, in spite of the headache.  
The night was sleepless too.  
There was a bottle of lyrium in one of his drawers, but he didn't drink it. 

_______O Creator, see me kneel:_  
_For I walk only where You would bid me._  
_Stand only in places You have blessed._  
_Sing only the words You place in my throat._

__________Get up before dawn, check on guard rotations, train with Iron Bull -if he was already awake, which was not likely-, receive morning reports and start working on his own reports, attend war council, deliver orders to the awaiting Inquisition's strongholds, train recruits, check on reconstruction progress. The headache didn't want to leave him.  
Josephine kept on singing a ballad about the Inquisitor and Hawke for their whole meeting. Leliana joined her too. Sweet Maker, was it ever going to end? Now it stuck to his head too.  
Dorian asked him to play chess again. He guessed he could spare half an hour.  
Cassandra forced him to go to the Herald's Rest to have dinner. He wasn't hungry at all, he was nauseous and all that chatter in the tavern made his head throb. He couldn't understand, why couldn't he eat in the main keep, in that canteen near the kitchen?  
The Inquisitor did sometimes, Josie and Leliana did so too, not to talk about Varric or Madame De Fer... .  
Cassandra was right though, seeing people made him lose his concentration on other matters. Surely she meant the lyrium, but he didn't want to miss his pace with his work. And the bard kept on singing that idiotic ballad all over again.  
When he finally came back to his quarters he was feeling worse than before. He shouldn't have gone, he knew it. He looked at his desk: a letter from Mia. Another one. He didn't have time to answer, he would read it tomorrow.  
Another sleepless night. He woke up three times from eerie dreams. This wasn't good.  
The bottle of lyrium was still untouched. 

_______________My Maker, know my heart:_  
_Take me from a life of sorrow._  
_Lift me from a world of pain._  
_Judge me worthy of Your endless pride._

__

________________Get up before dawn, take a potion for the headache, one for the nausea, pray their effects will last all day, check on guard rotations, train with Lysette -it made him think of Haven, of the time when he had trained Lavellan with daggers-, it was too hot to train, nausea gnawing at the pit of his stomach and the back of his tongue, receive morning reports and start working on a reply to Rylen's ones, it was impossible to write with his hands shaking like that - _Maker, steel my heart_ , attend war council, keep focused on their words - the Inquisitor was worried about the Dales, continue to deliver orders to the Inquisition's strongholds, train recruits - exhausting, check on reconstruction progress.  
_Maker, I will not forsake You._  
He saw her walking towards him that evening. She was surely going to check on her new mount, a halla. He had gone to see it too since Master Dennet had called it "a fine beast".  
She saw him and walked towards him. He had seen her only scarcely during the days before, walking, no, sulking around Skyhold, submerged by scouts and work.  
She had entered the Inquisition with such a bold, careless attitude. Now, after they had bestowed that title on her, ‘Inquisitor’, she looked overwhelmed.  
She sought counsel from him concerning her new role.  
"I'm sure you'll do it justice. We advisors will make sure that you won't carry the weight of the Inquisition alone".  
Bad answer? She didn't reply for a moment and then gave him a sheepish smile.  
"We'll see how long it takes for me to lure disaster upon us all again!".  
No, that wasn't acceptable. She wasn't Hawke, she didn't lure disaster. How could he tell her? His headache was pounding. He was tired.  
"You shouldn't blame yourself. Nothing that happened was your fault. Haven couldn't face an invasion and you managed to save us all- I mean... . You have proven yourself, Inquisitor, you will adjust to your role in no time".  
"If you say so...". He had got it all wrong again. Maker.  
"Here, let me debrief you on our situation, Inquisitor". He told her about the army, the undergoing work on the barracks and the civilian quarters, about his work on guard rotation, area exploration, planning for fortifications.  
"Very well, Commander!", she said. She seemed in a better mood now. Glowing green eyes- had he seen them in one of his dreams? No.  
"I must also recommend, Inquisitor", he went on. "That we pursue these red lyrium templars as soon as we can. They are dangerous and if we manage to find out where they smuggle the lyrium-".  
"Yes. That may be a good start, dismantle their supply chain and weaken their forces".  
She looked at him, one of those looks that she had in Haven. It made him smile.  
"Exactly. Excellent work, Inquisitor”.  
He had barely thought about what he was saying, had he actually teased her a little bit?  
Well, it didn't go missing on her.  
"Commander, I dare say that I am impressed by the amount of work that you managed to do in this little time-".  
"It is only my duty".  
"Yes, indeed. But does your duty come before your hours of sleep?". He froze. She was looking closely at him. What did she mean? Had she discovered it? Was it so evident?  
"This seems hardly the time to sleep", he managed to say. He tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword. His head pounded fiercely and his hands were cold: working was the only way to escape from it all.  
"I know, I- I am just saying that- it's just that you seem tired".  
He had got it all wrong again. But he couldn't let her see. He was not a child.  
"Your concern is ill-founded, Inquisitor. How are you instead?".  
That had been close. They chatted for a few minutes more, but she seemed disheartened by their conversation. She left. He watched her walking towards the stables, the sun glistening in her hair, in long strides she was already halfway, her figure from afar seemed like a silhouette cut out of a children’s book… .  
And then he did something stupid, something unprofessional. Was it out of guilt?  
He ran after her and stopped her, grabbed her by her arm. A thought that had repeatedly crossed his mind coming out of his mouth without him even being able to control it.  
"You stayed behind". He gave her no time to answer and hastily dropped her arm, clenching and unclenching his hand immediately after. "You could have... I will not allow anything like the events at Haven to happen again, I swear. I should have done more, I- I failed my duty Lavellan, it won't happen again. It's all I'm saying. Good day".  
Unprofessional. Idiotic. Nonsensical. Why had he done it? Surely she would have noticed his trembling hands when he had grabbed her arm. Maker, if only he could sleep. Just a few hours.  
Dorian wanted to play chess, again.  
The bottle of lyrium in his drawer remained untouched. 

___________________My Creator, judge me whole:_  
_Find me well within Your grace._  
_Touch me with fire that I be cleansed._  
_Tell me I have sung to Your approval._

______________________When the dream began he immediately knew that it was bad. The signs the days before… he thought they were merely passing, nothing that he couldn't cope with. But that dream told him otherwise. It was Kinloch all over again, flashes in his head, running behind Uldred and the mages, demons, abominations and then- He started panting- That room. "No, no, Maker, no". That room again. Short breaths, he looked around him: the glowing barrier hurt his eyes. He lifted his hands: templar gauntlets. "Maker, no!".  
He tried to break the barrier. Farris voice reached him, screaming, pleading for help. He couldn't, Maker, he couldn't get out. The abomination got him. He did not want to see, not again, not his friend pierced from part to part, not his body torn apart, not his face twisted in a mask of agony and terror. Farris' screams covered his, those screams again, echoing in his head. "Maker, stop!". He couldn't breathe. He stumbled around the barrier, perhaps he could pass it this time, perhaps he could break it. It was Annlise's turn. His stomach turned, the air got thinner. Blood. Then Beval's. The screams. And more blood. His friends’ blood. He did nothing. The demons came. Rage, burning the air, still impossible to breathe. His friends before him, blood, pools of blood, corpses, his skin burnt- "Maker, help me!".  
A voice: "It's a dream...".  
What was it? It wasn't there before. Was it another demon? Another one that had come to haunt him?  
"I know! I know", he screamed. "How do I get out?", he begged.  
But the desire demon was inside the barrier. He had already seen those green, glowing eyes. "Cullen...", Maker no. "Cullen...". Its features changed and he could recognize its face. Naked in front of him, her hair fluttering around her shoulders in the asphyxiating air. "Do you want to show me your love, Cullen?", she said. He stopped breathing. Not this again. "Do it, Cullen, show me how you love me". She smiled and turned and his hands moved against his order and delved into her flesh, opening a gash in her back. He was choking, he was crying, blood ran on his hands. And he saw, out of nothing, another hand on his, untouched by the dark blood. He blindly looked at its owner: a boy in tattered clothes and long blond hair. "Come with me, this isn't true".  
"How!", he screamed.  
"Follow me", the voice said. Those white hands pulled him away, he felt sucked out of a vortex, his mind was exploding-  
He jumped on his bed, sitting violently, gasping for air with raucous sounds. He breathed frantically, sweating profusely, his temples pounding. After some time he managed to focus on his surroundings: Skyhold, his room, the fresh and crisp breeze blowing from the hole in the ceiling. The boy was sitting at the feet of his bed.  
"You...", he could barely say.  
"Don't worry, I'm here to help", Cole simply said. There was no judgment in his eyes, just curiosity and concern. But Cullen was angered, it swelled in his chest, no one was to see him in that state.  
"Go away...", he growled.  
"But you still need me-".  
"Just go!", he shouted.  
Cole vanished, an empty space where he had previously been. He crouched on himself, hugging his legs. How did he manage to pull him out of that terror?  
'You are a grown man, Cullen Rutherford. You won't accept help from that boy just because you're scared'.  
He cried.  
He tossed the lyrium bottle out of the window. 

_________________________O Maker, hear my cry:_  
_Seat me by Your side in death._  
_Make me one within Your glory._  
_And let the world once more see Your favor._

____________He dragged himself up from the floor, it was before dawn, a potion for the headache, one for nausea, pray their effects will last all day, pray that his hands would not tremble so much, his forehead won't sweat, that he would be able to stand. Check on the guard rotations, train - it was too hot to train, the sword and the shield were too heavy, his blows lifeless, nausea gnawing at the pit of his stomach, at the back of his tongue, fortunately, no one was there to see. Receive morning reports - Mia's unopened letter a silent reprimand, he could not answer her today - _Maker, steel my heart_. Attend war council, keep focused on their words, the Inquisitor asked him something, he didn't hear - _Maker, take me from a life of sorrow_ \- did everyone notice? He could not train the recruits, he was exhausted, he asked his officers to do it.  
Cassandra insisted for him to eat with her. He could not eat. He sat there, lifeless and stiff like one of those training dummies in the courtyard, trying not to look too revolted at the sight of food.  
_Maker, hear my cry._  
Cole came back that night: another night, another dream. 

_________________________________Maker, my enemies are abundant._  
_Many are those who rise up against me._  
_But my faith sustains me; I shall not fear the legion,_  
_should they set themselves against me._

__

__________________________________The Inquisitor knew. Another one of those questions, just at the end of the war council: "Are you all right, Cullen?".  
Not Commander, just Cullen. He felt enraged, frustrated. What could he do? His mind drifted away from him, his body did not obey him, he dragged his night terrors along with him during the day- they were rabid dogs, whose jaws were clenched on his ankles.  
_Maker, hear my cry._  
He wrote and rewrote the note three times. Which one was the best? Which one did not betray him?  
He remained seated at his desk the whole time, trying to read reports with blurry eyes. He had to re-read the same sentence three times. He could not focus. He obsessively repeated in his head what he would tell her. How could he tell her?  
A faint knock and she entered. She said his name again.  
_Maker, steel my heart._  
He got up, he stood. 'Do not tremble', he ordered himself.  
He told her, exactly as he had rehearsed. He was no longer taking lyrium. It was done.  
"But, Cullen, you could-".  
"It's been months now, there is nothing to worry about. I won't let it interfere with my duties".  
"Are you in pain? Do you need-".  
"I will endure it".  
She looked at him and he felt guilty. He wanted to disappear.  
"Are you sure?".  
"Yes. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have urgent matters to attend to".  
_Maker, I will not forsake you._ Do not forsake me.  
Another night to survive. 

_______________________________________Maker, though the darkness comes upon me,_  
_I shall embrace the Light. I shall weather the storm._  
_I shall endure._  
_What You have created, no one can tear asunder._

__

________________________News of Samson. He must tell her before she departed. He wanted to act swiftly and could not do so without informing her.  
He did not leave his room. Empty bottles around his bed, how many potions had he consumed? But the nausea was still there. And Cole too. Why was he still there? He wrote another note. Four notes. He chose the best one and had it delivered. Headache pounding, but he hadn't dreamt. At least, he hadn't dreamt. His mind was a whirlwind. Even during the day. The light felt like needles in his eyes.  
She entered. Less friendly than a few days before, more composed, offended perhaps?  
"Inquisitor, I've got news about Samson".  
He managed to speak steadily until the end of their brief meeting. She was gleaming, he could not bear it. He could not bear for her to see him like that.  
He dismissed her. She shot him a glance and went away without another word. The morning after he watched her leaving from the threshold of his door. He caught a glimpse of her, riding the halla outside Skyhold's gates. Even if it was barely dawn, a little crowd was there to say goodbye nonetheless. The left hand with the green mark raised in a farewell, the reflexes of the light on her hair. She whispered something to her mount. She was gone. 

___________________________________________Maker, I shall endure,_  
_my faith sustains me._  
_Maker, I will not forsake You._  
_Maker, hear my cry._  
_Take me from a life of sorrow._  
_Lift me from a world of pain._  
_Maker, hear my cry._


	13. Night chat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everybody, I hope you're having a nice July!  
> I'm finally back and I think that from now on perhaps I will be able to publish again once a week...  
> Feel free to leave comments!!

###  Night chat 

She opened quietly the door to the rotunda. Everything was still and silent and the room was submerged in a pitch-black darkness, a single candle that flickered on Solas' desk being the only faint source of light.  
She looked around her but the elf was nowhere to be seen. She took a few noiseless, bare-footed steps on the cold pavement, standing in the shadows, her nightgown blending with the dark surroundings.  
"Can't sleep, lethallan?", a whisper echoed in the rotunda, making her jump and hiss like a cat.  
"Solas?", she whispered back, bewildered. Her heart beat in her throat.   
She heard his held-back chuckle coming from the couch. She narrowed her eyes and saw a shadow moving on it, its form becoming more elf-like as he emerged from under a blanket.  
"I didn't mean to scare you", he said. He got up and reached her, his features more recognizable with every pace. He stepped finally into the dim-light.  
"What are you doing here? How could you hear me?".  
He looked at her with a quizzical look, took the candle and proceeded to light some others with slow movements and care.  
"I did not hear you. Your mark flickered and gave you away".  
"Right, the mark...", Riwan mumbled, raising her bare hand and staring at the green light that now pulsated softly. "Why are you sleeping here, anyway? You do have your own bedroom if I remember right!".  
He chuckled again in seeing her still baffled expression. "I was studying and brought the book with me on the couch. I didn't want to get up, it is too comfortable". He gestured quietly towards the couch with interrogative eyes. "Would you care for a night chat, since neither of us can rest?".   
Riwan shrugged and sat on the ground instead, the lighted chandeliers making everything around her look eerie and sinister. She looked intently at him while he sat cross-legged in front of her, his smile never leaving his face. She did not want to talk to him.  
She had hoped to find a relaxing book in the library, a novel perhaps - if such a book could ever exist in a Chantry approved library - and to steal some cookies from the kitchen, but apparently nothing would go as planned that night.  
"It seems that there's a little party going on in Josephine's study...", he ventured.  
"Yes, I heard it". She lied. She hadn't just heard it, she had shamelessly eavesdropped on Josephine's door and when she heard Cullen's laughter among Cassandra, Josephine and Leliana's ones, she felt like she was simmering in anger. She also had to hide from the Seeker who soon after exited from that door by jumping down the stairs right into the cellar, gaining a bruise on one of her butt-cheeks that hurt terribly.   
"And apparently we weren't invited". He didn't seem very hurt by his exclusion as he lifted again his amused eyes on her.  
"No, we weren't. Advisors only. No Inquisitor to ruin their party".  
"Don't be angry...".  
"I'm not".  
"But you look troubled".  
She shot him an inquisitive glance. He did not know that he was one of her motives to be so upset.  
"That I am...". Her voice came out like a low growl.   
"I take that your expedition to the Dales didn't go as you expected".  
"What do you think? How could any elf be glad to explore the Dales?", she snapped.  
His curious expression did not falter. The shadows created by the candlelight under his brows, nose and mouth made him look even more quizzical and almost creepy.  
"That is a place full of sorrow for the elves, I agree...".  
"Strange for you to agree".   
She couldn't stop her tongue nor her brain could filter her words. The week she had spent in Dirthavaren with Dorian, Bull and Cassandra had put a strain on her mental stability. Dirthavaren, the promised land, the land about which Shalle had daydreamed during their days together- it was just a graveyard. An open-air graveyard of their civilization, where each and every elven mural or statue had been savagely destroyed and replaced by proud Chantry landmarks that recounted the fabulous tales of the Exalted March heroes. Cassandra read out loud the writings carved upon them, in wonder and with interest, while Riwan's temper became shorter with every word she said.  
Feelings that she thought long forgotten had started to resurface from the recesses of her mind, resentment leading them all: towards the Chantry, towards humans, towards merciless history records; then, towards Cassandra and what Riwan thought to be lack of tact from her part; towards templars who had taken her sister and destroyed her previous life, leading her to this unwanted one; towards Cullen, who had pushed her away and whose interest in Dalish culture seemed to her now like a polite facade for his true distaste for her; finally, towards Solas, who proudly claimed that the Dalish did not understand the ways of the world and that he was not her kind.   
'What is wrong with my kind?', she had found herself thinking over and over again while gritting her teeth. Still, she did not speak, she did not let these thoughts overflow out of the boiling pot of her mind. Only Dorian's presence soothed her temper, his sense of guilt over his ancestors' deeds compelling him to comfort her through words and gestures.  
"I could hardly rejoice over the fall of Halamshiral...".  
"I'm glad to hear it. I thought you were ready to lecture me on my own stupidity for being so offended by what I saw in the Dales".  
"I would never do such a thing, Inquisitor". His voice, that had been soft until that moment, reached her now cutting and edgy. Good. She was in need of a fight. She wanted to see just how far his proud went, his certainty to be always one step above others.   
'Go and meet the Dalish clan, if you wish', his letter to her had reached and hit her. She had thrown it in the campfire. She did not care whether he intended to be rude or not. She had been wrong to share her exultation for having found traces of her people in that barren land.  
"Would you not, Solas? Yet you have done so on many different occasions. Oh, but I see, we weren't talking about elves in general back then, we were talking about Dalish, stupid, obtuse Dalish. That's why tonight I'm not worthy of a reprimand".  
"Inquisitor, I-".  
"Because you are not my kind, are you not Solas?".  
"It's been a long time since I said that thing-".  
"And I still remember it as if it was yesterday! If you're not my kind, then who are you, Solas? What are you? You're an elf, you should be freaking out in dismay and rage in thinking about what has been done to our people! That clan in the Dales! They have nothing-nothing!".  
"I do", he said. His still expression did carry a silent reprimand.   
"You do what?". Her voice was rising.  
"I do freak out in dismay, as you say".  
She stopped in her outburst in hearing his decided words and grimaced.   
"Lethallan, I've grown up away from the Dalish, journeyed around Thedas and discovered different cultures and civilizations. If I do not express... love for your people does not mean that I do not grieve for the elves-".  
"My people? Then, who are your people? They are not the city elves, they are not the Dalish... Who are your people, Solas? Why do you think you're so different from me?".  
"What I'm trying to tell you is that our different origins do not distance us enough so as not to call each other kin. We are both elves-".  
"Oh, stop it!". She buried her face in her hands and tried to calm herself. She thought of going away, she couldn’t stand him anymore, but then-  
a whisper in her mind, like a breath of wind. Her heart suddenly beat at a slower pace again and her thoughts unraveled. His voice reached her as if it came from inside her head.  
"I think that you're anger rises not only from what you've seen in the Dales, lethallan. If you want to talk about it, I would be pleased to help you. I just ask you not to slight me without motive".  
"Yes...", she mumbled, suddenly ashamed.   
She struggled with her words, unable to look at his face. She felt mesmerized by something, though she knew not what it was. In an invisible arm wrestling, eventually her own voice resounded again in her head.  
'Do not tell him about Cullen'. This simple thought, her own voice resounding in her head, made her eyes open in disbelief. 'Tell him about the Dales, about the building operations, anything but Cullen'.  
The building operations, she had almost forgotten about them - the real reason why they were in Skyhold right now. They had been trying to reach a swamp located in the North-East of Dirthavaren, but the only passage towards it had been swallowed by rocks and boulders fallen from the mountains around it. Furthermore, the bridge that led to the Northern Orlesian ramparts had collapsed. There was nothing they could do by themselves and so they had decided to come back to Skyhold - to her great relief.  
"I read some of your reports. It seems that you can't stand the undead". He chuckled. His voice, strangely reaching her from outside of her own mind, startled her. She tried to regain control over her thoughts, she could not hear her own voice anymore. Reports - undead - the ramparts… . Solas snapped his fingers. The grogginess disappeared in an instant. Her own voice came urgent in her mind: ‘Do not tell him about Cullen’.  
"Yes, I hate them". She mastered the courage of looking at him and saw that he carried a peaceful expression again. "I hate them", she repeated. She cleared her throat and awkwardly passed a hand over her forehead.  
"I can understand. My travels brought me to a place where war had scarred the thriving land, no man was spared, no child from blade and murder. Their corpses laid under the sun, and as the Veil was torn apart, the Demons took their form, their thirst for vengeance. The undead came, like a horde, and their tongue was of blind rage".  
"Apparently I do not speak undead as well as you do, I can only hear gurgling sounds and screeching. And they smell too".  
They both laughed quietly, their voices spiralling upwards towards the rookery- a crow emitted some snaps to express his disdain in being awaken.  
"Cassandra told me about your dreams. She told me you don't want any help-".  
"No", she quickly said.  
The dreams. Another topic she did not wish to discuss with him. But of course he knew. Since they had reached Dirthavaren she had started to dream of red and yellow glowing eyes watching her in the dark. At first, she thought them to be only nightmares: too many corpses, horrors, dead orlesian soldiers, too many burnt down houses and skeletons found in the tall grass that covered once flourishing fields.  
But then they had started to speak to her. She could not make out a single word of what they said, because she would recoil in terror and wake up screaming like she had gone mad. That was the other reason why they had decided to go back to Skyhold for a few days. That was why she wasn't asleep in her cozy bed that night. She was afraid she might see them again. She was afraid she was losing it and she couldn't tell anybody that she thought them to be no nightmares at all: they were true, those eyes were trying to reach her... . No one would believe her. Not even Cullen.   
"I know spells that could make you sleep in peace".  
"Yes", she hastily said, throwing him a knowing look. He had already used those spells on her, he had already let her rest in peace. But that night, maybe for the eerie candlelight that bestowed shadows on his face, maybe for her shaken nerves, she did not trust him to do so. "I know, but I think one of my Dalish concoctions will suffice".   
She tried to sound as polite as possible.  
"Very well, then. I may suggest that you put some arbor blessing leaves inside. They are really useful when it comes to soothing, be it wounds or minds".  
"I will", she said.  
A moment of silence passed, the vacant space around them resounding empty in her ears. "Where were you going before I stopped you?", he said.  
"I wanted to reach the library. Find a book. A novel or something to pass the night".  
"I see. Maybe I could help you with this matter at least, then...".  
As he started to list a number of novels which he had liked with passionate voice and eyes, the safe voice of her mind started to drift back to the previous days yet again. Why had it happened? She had strained so hard not to think about him. 'A templar's story', yes, as soon as Solas named the title of that book his tired face immediately showed itself in her mind.  
'He is sick', she worriedly thought. But then, 'He doesn't trust you, he doesn't want you even as a friend', the quick retort came. These thoughts had been another constant, excruciatingly annoying melody that had accompanied her for days.  
It all began before she departed for the Dales, him telling her about his lyrium withdrawal and then dropping and refusing any sort of contact with her. She made Cassandra send reports to him, she did not want to write to him. Then they had come back. That night, that private reunion in Josephine's office, was simply the last piece of the mosaic that confirmed that he simply did not care for her: while he was perfectly capable of talking amiably and laughing with others, he could not do it with her anymore.  
She had seen him only during war councils, his eyes red and tired. As soon as the councils ended he would bolt away and she would not see him until the next one.  
She had tried to visit him and speak to him in his office, but his glacial stare and his red eyes had made her back down.  
"Uhm- I just wanted to tell you that I wish to start those operations in the Hinterlands".  
"Which operations?".  
"Lyrium supply chains. Digging them out".  
"Very well, I'll send word to Corporal Vale. Anything else?".  
"No. I should probably go. Lots of things to do".  
She had run away, gritting her teeth, screaming 'Shem!' in her head until she was tired even of thinking.  
But the worst part had happened two days before, at the archery training field, a place where she usually found peace, her bow and arrow and the target practicing being her way to escape from her thoughts.  
She had been shooting dummies for some time, Asaan - Bora cycling in her head for an hour or so, some soldiers watching her from afar, some cheering when she performed her leaping shot- her newly mastered move. When she finished training and started to make for the archway that led to the barracks she had stopped midtrack on her path and her heart had stopped too. As soon as blood resumed to flow in her veins she had darted behind the threshold of the archway, careful not to be seen.  
She could see Cullen's broad figure at the end of the passage, he was below a canopy that shed a great shadow and made it impossible for her to read his expression.  
And with him was Lysette - or Lynette, or however she was called. He was curved upon her, holding her with his arms while she rested her forehead on his chest. After some time - seconds or minutes?- they exchanged a few words, their heads close - Riwan's stomach leaped too - and then they left, arms around each other, her head on his shoulder.  
No sound reached her but that of her own blood pounding in her ears and her heart wild in her chest. Her eyes started to burn. She bolted back to her room and muffled a scream in a pillow.  
"So, what do you think?".  
She came back from her trance and quickly said: "I'll go for 'A templar's story'".   
It was the only title which she had understood and she hoped that she had gotten it right.  
"Excellent choice", he said. "One has to know his enemies...".  
She gave him an uncertain smile.  
"Anything else I can help you with?".  
"No, thank you, Solas. Perhaps I should just- try to rest now". She felt uneasy, but she knew not why. She steeled the smile on her lips and got up. "I'll pick up the book first, though".  
"Very well", he said. He got up too and looked closely at her. "I hope there are no hard feelings between us-".  
"Absolutely not", she said. "I was being childish. It's hard to go on like this, everyone expects you always to be sure of yourself and in control... I'm sorry if I vented out my frustration at you".   
Fortunately enough, she still was an excellent liar. She had convinced him. His smile was genuine now, it lost its inquiring sparkle for the first time that night.  
"I'm glad, lethallan".  
They bidded each other goodnight.   
Riwan got up the stairs and, carefully hiding her marked hand, she spied on him from above: he left the rotunda after having collected a mug and a couple of books.   
'What did just happen...?', she thought.  
She checked again that he was truly gone and gave a sigh of relief. She sat on the ground for some time, her head spinning wildly with sorrow and confusion.   
'Tomorrow we will leave again for the Dales', she thought. 'I can make it. I will endure it'. She smiled bitterly through silent tears as soon as she realized that she had used exactly his same words. I will endure it. 'Cullen Stanton Rutherford. I will endure it'.


	14. I am pining

### I am pining 

_Dear Cassandra,_   
_I’m sorry if I deliver this news to you by letter, but it can’t wait._   
_I’m no longer fit for the position that you kindly offered me in Kirkwall._   
_I recommend that you appoint a replacement for the role of Commander of the Inquisition forces. I trust that you will keep your end of our agreement since I’m no longer able to fulfill my vows._   
_Forgive me, I’ve failed you._   
_Cullen_

All the time they had spent in the Hinterlands, exploring each and every cave and path, not even daring to touch their mounts for ‘too many things will go missed!’ - meaning that the Inquisitor planned on picking up every elfroot that they stumbled upon; all the time spent talking to farmers, hunters, villagers, splashing in rivers and ponds, picking up iron and ‘pretty rocks’ - Cassandra grimaced just thinking about it; all the time spent meddling into other people’s business, playing with astrariums, recruiting agents of dubious capability… all that time seemed to her now like an entire lifetime compared to the quickness and the haste with which the Inquisitor had dealt with the eastern region of the Dales. She went on her way like a battering ram, on horseback, stopping only for the least necessary time, executing orders with a stormy look on her face. Cassandra begrudgingly admitted to herself that she almost missed Varric, such was Riwan’s sullen humor and endless the bickering between Dorian and Iron Bull.   
In the end, they were all glad to depart and to head to the Western Approach, tailing the Inquisitor in her inexplicable frenzy of action. There, Riwan got a hold of her temper, as the weather was warm - they were in the desert, after all - but cool in the night, and as they had found an oasis near which they had set up camp and which represented the main reason why Riwan could tolerate the emptiness of the land - ‘There are no trees here, how am I supposed to be in good spirits when there are no oaks around?!’, Riwan’s outburst on the orlesian ramparts still echoed in the Seekers' brain. It was in the Western Approach that the Inquisitor did one of the most reckless things Cassandra had ever ventured into, as she led them all into expunging an entire fortress from venatori forces without any reinforcements. “Inquisitor, this was madness! I can barely believe we’re all in one piece!”, she had said, extracting her bloodied sword from the last venatori that stood standing and looking around her in total disbelief. Riwan had grinned and said: “This was fun, wasn’t it?”.   
After having delivered the fortress into Rylen’s trusted hands, they set off to Crestwood. The Inquisitor wanted to start searching the area before the arranged meeting there with Hawke. They stopped in Skyhold for one night and then continued to head on towards their destination. By the time they reached Scout Harding in Crestwood, Riwan’s party was exhausted to the brim, but the elf seemed possessed by a demonic force. She let them rest for an afternoon, but it was clear that she was already annoyed by the chilly rain and by the continuous attacks they were suffering from organized groups of bandits. “Isn’t that an oak tree? Why aren’t you in a better mood?”, Cassandra ventured. “Undead”, was the grim reply. Finally, after Riwan led them to the conquer of yet another fort, Caer Bronach, they eventually agreed that it was high time they went back to Skyhold and rest properly.

It had been, what, three weeks or one month since their departure? It was their last night in the field and Riwan was finally aching to go back home. She was on Caer Bronach’s bastion, inspecting the Inquisition’s people coming and going from above as they colonized the fortress. Soldiers and scouts were settling down and merchants were bargaining their presence there. A smith had already been recruited and she could hear the sound of hammer and anvil from afar.   
She still had her amour on but she had let her hair loose and she was deeply inhaling the fresh air.  
“Well, well, well, Inquisitor. This surely is a charming place, isn’t it?”.  
She turned and saw Dorian approaching her, literally kissed by the rays of an uncertain, setting sun that had managed to shine through the clouds.  
“Yes… If you have a passion for corpses and demons…”, she said, as he leaned against the merlons beside her. “You look exquisite in your new armour, Dorian”, she added, fondly looking at him. Harritt had indeed made a wonderful job with it - “Ser Pavus needs something solid yet fancy, Harritt, keep it in mind!”, she had told him.  
“My dear, you don’t need to remind me of my own beauty. Besides, I’m more concerned about you. You’re hardly yourself as of lately”. A smile lingered on his lips as he enquiringly searched her expression...  
“Me?!”, she said, slightly taken aback by his words.  
“Yes, Lavellan. You”.  
“I don’t know what you mean-”. She shrugged her shoulders and lifted her chin, averting her eyes from Dorian’s sharp ones.   
“Don’t play the fool with me, Riwan. As if I hadn’t caught you pining and brooding and drooping in the last few months!”.  
“What? Dorian, you’re making things up for your own amusement…”, she said, feigning surprise even though she knew all too well that there was no way from dissuading Dorian or mislead him now that he had a hunch. She had been discovered. She started playing nervously with her hair, then crossed her arms, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. All of these jittery movements were nothing but validation to the mage’s suspects.   
“Fasta vass! For how long exactly do you intend to put on this show? Be honest: I saw you watching him with those big loving eyes of yours. _What_ happened?”.   
She started blushing uncontrollably and covered her face with her marked hand, the tickling sensation from the anchor strangely comforting in that moment. It was the first time that she was so ashamed to confess her thoughts to someone - everything had always been so easy for her before Hoden’s fall that it was now extremely painful to admit that someone else didn’t want her back. But, ‘It’s Dorian who is standing in front of you’, she told herself, ‘Dorian, the one who brought you to the private meeting with his father! Fenedhis’. She made her last stand nonetheless: “And who exactly are you talking about when you say he…?”.  
“Come on, elf. Spit it out”, he said, raising a finger towards her and pinching her nose with a little jolt of electricity.  
“Ouch! That was unnecessary!”.   
“It clearly was”, he said, caressing his moustache with a pleased look on his face.  
“Fine! Fine, I _am_ pining, I am! And it is useless because it is unrequited!”.   
Her frustration burst out as she vigorously massaged her nose. For all that time she had wanted to tell Dorian everything so badly that each word that came out of her mouth brought with it a weight that she didn’t know she had carried until she was finally relieved from it.   
“Of that I highly doubt. And, let me speak plainly, the lucky one you’re pining for, the man of _our_ most secret dreams…”.  
“Who is pining?”. Cassandra’s voice came steady and strong from behind them, making them both flinch. She was standing a few feet from them: her hair was wet and, unaffected as usual by the cold air, she wore her simple shirt and breeches.   
“ _Who is pining_?”, she repeated since both Riwan and Dorian were standing there dumbly, looking blankly at her.   
Dorian was the first one to break the silence and laughed: “The only thing I’m sure of, Cassandra, is that I never pine as I am always pined for”.  
“Ugh, cut it out Dorian. I heard you two quite well, but I will take no offence in not being included in your gossip. I was just coming to tell you that the bath is free if you wish to bathe before Bull finishes the water”.  
“I am pining…”, Riwan said. Her voice came out like a little squeak, her brain sending her crazed emergency signals. Mythal, had she gone out of her mind? Telling the Seeker about it? She had known her for quite some time and right now she seemed to be one of the few people who could help her: was she not moved to tears when they had found the body of a dead hunter in the Hinterlands and they had delivered the news to his ex-lover? Had she not boldly defended Blackwall when Sera had found a portrait of Josephine’s among his things?  
“Inquisitor, I…”, Cassandra looked puzzled and held her clear eyes wide open. “You are pining? For what? How is that possible?”. She quickly came near them as a solicitous and excited look appeared on her face. “What has happened? How?”.  
Dorian laughed. “You are lovely, Cassandra!”.  
“Hush, I’m not lovely. Let the Inquisitor speak! Can we help?”.  
“I’m not sure”, Riwan said, overwhelmed and with her throat dry. “You… You wouldn’t… approve…”. Her voice had now lowered to a whisper.  
“Well, _I_ certainly do!”, Dorian stated.  
“Dorian! Do you know who we are talking about? What do you mean I wouldn’t approve?”. The Seeker gasped and raised her hands in front of her mouth like an excited little girl. “Is it a man?”.   
Riwan blushed deeply and emitted a growl while she covered her ever more blushing face.   
“It is! It is!”, Cassandra exclaimed, utterly exalted by it all. “Dorian, do not tell me! Is it… no! Not… Varric…?!”.  
“What?! No!”, Riwan nearly shouted, bewildered.  
“Then why wouldn’t I approve…”, she looked inquiringly at both Dorian and the Inquisitor.  
The mage sighed with exaggerated dreamy eyes and shook his head while whispering: “We're talking about someone _way_ taller and… Fereldan”.  
“No… No! Cullen?! Seriously, _Cullen_? Is it him? I ...I can’t believe it”. The Seeker was at the highest of excitement and thrill. “But how! Why! How is that possible?”.  
“I’ve been asking myself the same questions…”, Riwan said grimly.  
“Please, tell us _everything_ ”.   
“No, it’s useless. And, anyway, he doesn’t like me back, so…”.  
“But how can you know that!”, the Seeker said, her voice at a high pitch, her eyes shining.  
“I… I fooled myself, ok? I thought that… I could see something, but it clearly wasn’t there. Maybe he was just meaning to be polite all this time and I mistook it for something more”.  
“There’s a thin line indeed between niceness and politeness…”, Dorian observed, amused by the whole scene.  
“Yes, and apparently I mistook his side, all right?”, Riwan said, defensively. “He has been avoiding me lately and, besides, I saw him with someone else…”.  
“ _Cullen is with someone_?!”. Cassandra seemed on the verge of freaking out.  
“Yes, that templar, Lynette…”.  
“His lieutenant? Isn’t her name Lysette?”, Dorian asked.  
“Were they _kissing_?”, Cassandra pressed on.  
“No, but…”.  
“But?!”.  
“He was like… holding her and then they went away with arms around each other”.  
“It cannot be!”, Cassandra said, staring wildly in front of her, “I would have seen it coming, they have known each other for a long time, how could it come out right now! Sure, I always have to pull everything out of him, but...”, she muttered and frowned, lost for a moment in her own thoughts.  
“I don’t know”, Riwan sighed, “But I’m pretty sure about what I’ve seen”.  
“There is no harm in subtly investigating…”, Dorian observed, amused every minute more by the Seeker’s outbursts.  
“ _Please_ , I beg both of you, don’t make matters worse than they already are!”, Riwan pleaded.  
“Of course not!”, Cassandra passionately objected.  
“How could we!”, Dorian exclaimed. “Our lips are sealed, Inquisitor”.  
“I would never tell Cullen!”, Cassandra enthusiastically said.  
The mage and the Seeker both looked at each other and in that instant they made a silent, sacred agreement, sealed by the power of a single gaze.

_Commander,_   
_Do you think that you can convince me of such a thing by letter? Do you not know me at all?_   
_If I will not find you still operative in Skyhold when I return from Crestwood , I will send all of the Inquisition forces after you._   
_Trust me._   
_Cassandra_


	15. Bathed in moonlight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading this! Have a nice first of august everyone!

### Bathed in moonlight

The nightmares hadn't let him be during that month. They had gotten every day worse and his routine had settled into a constant effort not to stress himself too much: he dreaded the night hours, but he forced himself to go to bed, even if it only meant speaking with Cole all night or drifting into terrors that shook his brain. He was tired, so tired. Maker if only he could get a five hours sleep.  
He dreaded the day too: his mind felt steadier than in the night, he felt more like himself, but the light pierced his eyes and drilled into his skull, he couldn't stand the heat nor the sharp noises of blade against blade. He had nearly doubled the potions for headaches and nausea, and, to his greatest relief, the herbalist hadn't seemed to notice the increasing requests from his part - not that he knew of, at least. Still, he worked and trained, he tried to keep his mind solid, attached to reality, praying that his soldiers didn't notice his shaking hands, his constant thirst.  
When Cassandra's answer reached him, after an entire night spent throwing up and being sick, he crumpled it into his fist and threw it away with a yell. 'Maker, help me...'.  
Josephine had begged him to take at least one hour a day off and so he gave in. Normally he would have played chess in the garden with Dorian, but since the mage was away with the Inquisitor, there was no one aside from Leliana who wished to challenge the Commander. The Spymaster was quite a tough opponent since she didn't despise the use of any against-the-rules means in order to win: he had to stay alert, for pawns and horses would suddenly disappear from the board and reappear out of the blue at her convenience.  
Even Cole hadn't let him be during that month, but in truth he was grateful for it: the boy usually appeared out of thin air during his few sleeping hours and, as annoyed as he was by his persistency into wanting to help him at the beginning, he had finally given in to his company, finding out with his own disbelief that he even sort of missed him when he wasn’t there.  
He was in the garden that afternoon too: he had taken some reports with him and was using the chessboard as a desk. From where he was sitting, he could smell the faint smell of plants and flowers carried by the breeze and be cuddled by the timid rays of the sun that reached him through the leaves of the trees. He was feeling slightly better than the days before and was beginning to desperately hope that he may come out of that dark swamp from which he could barely stick his mouth out.  
After a while, he saw the Seeker eyeing him from afar and then reaching him smiling warmly, a challenging look in her eyes. She sat opposite him and waited for Cullen to finish writing.  
"Commander", she greeted him, as soon as she saw him finally sign his papers.  
"Seeker. It has been a while", he observed, somewhat coldly, piling the signed report upon the others and resting on the back of his chair.  
"Yes, it has. And I must confess that I'm glad to be back".  
She clearly was trying to engage him in a light conversation, her expression attentive and peaceful, but he wouldn’t give in. He smiled briefly at her but said nothing.  
"Very well. Business first", she said. Her eyes immediately narrowed and her expression changed in less than a second, as she rested her elbows on the arms of her chair and her chin on her joined hands, ready to strike her blow. "What was that letter about?".  
"My discharge papers, you mean?", he retorted. Her menacing look made him clench his jaw harder.  
"You call that letter your discharge papers?".  
"Yes. And you must listen to reason-". His voice became a hissing whisper as he leaned closer to the Seeker's face, burying his dry eyes into hers.  
"No, you must listen to reason. I will not accept your resignation".  
"Why! Why would you do it? Why won't you - you, of all people - why won’t you listen to me? Do you think that I'm not able to judge my own health?".  
"I don’t. But I think that you give yourself too little credit".  
He scoffed and pushed the chessboard with an angry growl, his eyes darting to the sky.  
Cassandra did not move, her weight on the chessboard preventing it from falling.  
"I see you today and you look fine. Not at your best, but fine".  
"Yes, because you haven't been here for the last three weeks. I barely kept it together, I-".  
"And why are you feeling better now?".  
He started laughing, incredulous. "As if I knew why!".  
A moment of silence stretched upon them. Cullen exhaled sharply several times, massaging the bridge of his nose, while the Seeker still hadn't moved her narrowed eyes from him. As he seemed to be calmer she lifted her elbows from the chessboard and relaxed a little.  
"Have you told her?".  
"Yes". His voice emerged from behind the hand covering his face, despaired and ashamed.  
"Good. That's good, Cullen".  
He laughed under his breath again, laughter soon turning into a muffled sigh of pain.  
"Please. Let's just see how the next month goes. Bloomingtide. Do you agree?".  
“No, I don’t- I’m not able to do this anymore”.  
“Very well, if this is what you think then I will delegate this decision to the Inquisitor”.  
“What is this, uh? A rebound?”, he snapped.  
“No, it’s just good sense. She is our leader, she must know what your intentions are”.  
Anger was making him lose control, but the thought of telling her… that couldn’t be. He opened his mouth several times but knew all too well that Cassandra wasn’t joking. She was playing dirty, though, and that made him furious. He pictured again and again in his mind what face would she make upon receiving the news, what decision could she possibly make… that could not happen.  
"Until Bloomingtide...". He couldn't look at her face. He sighed and dropped his head between his hands. Until Bloomingtide. An entire month.  
“Consider it your evaluation period. After this month I’ll see that a replacement will be appointed if needed”.  
“...all right”.  
"Is the matter decided, Cullen?".  
"It is", he growled.  
"Good. I'm sure you can assign others to training. You can limit yourself to office work".  
"Yes", he growled again.  
"We have an agreement then. I believe in you, Cullen".  
"You already told me several times". He finally looked at her, his eyes slits in a mask of distaste.  
"Do not blame others for having faith in you, Commander".  
"Have you got something else you wish to discuss? Or do you intend to keep me here and scold me the whole afternoon?".  
"As a matter of fact, I have. Have you received my letters during these three weeks?".  
"I have. Congratulations on your results, Seeker".  
"It has been exhausting, but I can't complain".  
"Very well". His sarcasm didn’t miss her, he wouldn't let her win or have the last word. He felt bitter feelings against her stinging his chest, though he knew that she only meant well.  
"We have gained a few orlesian allies - valued allies, I believe. The army will be on our side after we freed the Dales from the undead".  
"It would be dishonorable for the chevaliers not to acknowledge our help...", he sighed.  
"Yes, we did all the dirty work for them after they messed up".  
Cassandra deftly veered the conversation onto their work in the Dales and the orlesians military tactics. Clever move. He could scarcely hold a grudge after a solid ten minutes of that chit chat and he finally surrendered, exhaustion prevailing upon his anger. 'What's a month in comparison with years of this?', he thought to himself, his hands shaking.  
"I'm sure it will prove very useful for the impending ball at the Winter Palace...".  
"Oh sweet Maker, I completely forgot about it". They both shared a disgusted and disarmed look.  
"It seems that only Josephine and Leliana are looking forward to it. Perhaps Madame De Fer too, but I rarely speak with her". He passed a hand over his face. The tiredness from the nights before was starting to make itself be heard as a pounding sensation began inflating and deflating in his head.  
"How could they! There is talking about a planned assassination, how could- Ugh… They will, won't they?".  
"Of course they will", he chuckled under his breath.  
Cassandra waited for a moment, looking at him closely, then she cautiously spoke again.  
"Maybe we will be able to bring a more extended party...".  
He lifted his gaze and raised his eyebrows slightly. "What do you mean?".  
"Well, it's a- ball, after all...".  
"Yes, and we will be there to participate in peace negotiations between Empress Celene and Comte Gaspard and to probably prevent a murder", he said.  
She slightly blushed and Cullen couldn't understand why. Her expression changed in the beat of a moment as her eyes widened. "Well, that doesn't mean that you will be prohibited from bringing your lieutenant with you".  
Cullen frowned, still not understanding what the Seeker really intended to say. "A contingent of soldiers will be more than sufficient. We must lay low and not arise suspicion. They will pass as the Inquisitor's private protection".  
"Yes, of course. But I meant... for company?".  
"Cassandra, what are you suggesting exactly?".  
The Seeker looked flustered and Cullen's headache was becoming increasingly annoying, his animosity against her resurfacing again.  
"I'm sorry, I thought that you would have liked having Lynette accompanying you on such an... occasion".  
"Do you mean Lysette?".  
"Yes, her", she hastily replied, her eyes downcast and her cheeks red.  
"Why on earth would I need to bring Lysette to Empress Celene's ball?".  
He leaned on the chessboard that stood between them and looked intently at her, hoping that she was joking and feeling at the same time a fleeting feeling of pity towards her, for her embarrassment was becoming increasingly more evident by the second.  
"Oh, then, you wouldn't want to? I just happened to hear...".  
"Oh Maker, hear what? I'd never thought you would go gossiping around-".  
"I don't! I didn't! I just heard that you were... romantically involved and I-".  
"With Lysette?", he nearly spat out.  
"Yes...".  
"She is my lieutenant! Me? Romantically involved? How could such a thing be said-"  
"Well, you are the Commander of the Inquisition, after all", she said apologetically, “You are watched and followed constantly, it is normal for a little gossip to spread...".  
"Yes, but I have never done anything that could... even hint at something with Lysette. Where did you hear it, who told you?”.  
"No one precisely, I just happened to hear it".  
"You are a terrible liar, Seeker".  
"News spread fastly around the barracks, you do know that!". She sounded almost desperate.  
"I don't believe it... It was Dorian, wasn't he?", he finally said, a look of triumph spreading across his face. "He's been bothering me with personal questions since the first day we met. And that - that's why yesterday, the first thing he does when he comes back is asking me if I have amused myself with any new form of entertainment...". The sudden revelation made him even madder.  
Cassandra flinched a little. "No, it wasn't Dorian. Though... he may have heard it himself".  
Cullen scoffed. "I knew it! That- that mage!".  
"Cullen it wasn't him and there's no need to get so offended by innocuous gossip! There could be many worse things being said, this is just a trifle matter. Forget about it".  
"And what have I done that's so scandalous? Uh?".  
"I have no idea".  
"Cassandra-".  
"All right, all right! I give in! They saw you in the barracks... with arms and...".  
"Andraste's- fine- ugh! It must be that day that she nearly fainted! What should I have done? Should I have left her unconscious on the ground?".  
"Of course not, Cullen".  
"After she had trained my soldiers in heavy armour all day long under the sun?".  
"Cullen, just- get over it! Forget I said anything!".

Trifle or not, Cullen couldn't get that piece of gossip out of his aching head. That evening, after having done a recon around the barracks, checked that the guard rotations ran smoothly and reassigned the following training sessions amongst his subordinates, he found himself still dwelling on that thought. It got worse as the hours passed and even though he knew that obsessing over it was the lyrium's doing, he couldn't shake it off his head for all his determination and rationality. He angrily got up from his desk, tossing aside the papers he was trying to read and decided to take a walk outside. Maybe some fresh air would restore him.  
He got out of his office, sweating and warming insistently his icy hands at the same time. There was nearly a full moon that obscured all the stars from view but that lighted the fortress with a white, pearly glow. He quietly paced the bastions, saluting the occasional soldier who stood on guard.  
As he paced around, he tried to understand why the thought of that rumour annoyed him so much: he had never had a very outgoing personality and he gladly kept his business for himself. Surely that was one thing. But the main reason was that he couldn't stand the thought that someone could hear it and get the wrong idea from it... it made him feel frustrated and angry.  
He went through yet another tower still in need of reconstruction and ended up on a part of the bastions that stood nearly opposite his quarters. He quietly closed the door behind him and then he stopped abruptly. A figure was standing midway from him.  
He immediately recognized her. The beauty of the scene - her beauty - made him hold his breath for one second: she was bathed in moonlight. Her hair and nightgown floated lightly in the gentle, fresh breeze, a pearly glow surrounded her and the stone and the mountains afar. He was overthrown by it all and he knew that everything that he had tried to prevent could escape from his grasp if he didn't keep in control - or he if he didn’t immediately go back from where he came from, before it was too late.  
But she felt observed and quickly turned towards him. Her eyes glowed in the dark, a dark green light that originated from Maker knew where, and she had no shoes on, her lean and tattooed feet were visible under the dark fabric of her robe. She had seen him. He smiled tentatively and approached her, he had no other choice. 'Andraste preserve me'.  
"Can't sleep?", she asked. A hesitant smile crossed her face as she turned her back to the landscape while adjusting and tightening the nightgown over her pajamas.  
"Apparently not". He smiled too, meekly, avoiding her gaze, standing awkwardly beside her and looking at his hands resting on the merlon in front of him.  
"Me neither", she observed.  
Silence ensued. He could see with the tale of his eyes that she was tapping a foot on the floor. He was at a loss on what to say. How long had it been since they had last spoken? He should have gone away before it was too late, before he got caught in… this.  
"I-uhm... I should congratulate myself on the excellent results that you achieved during your last trip, Inquisitor".  
"You should, Commander. I knocked down quite a few venatori myself".  
She sounded cold. He realized that he could safely look at her since she wasn't looking back at him.  
"As much as I hate to admit it, I even used my hidden daggers once", she finally went on. The shadow of a smile took form on her lips.  
"I'm glad to hear it. I knew they would be useful".  
"Yes, of course you knew", she retorted swiftly.  
"Yes... I also happen to know that if you ever plan to raid an enemy fort again you should do so with at least the support of a small contingent of soldiers. You can't do such a thing, just- you and three other ill-fated people who have no other choice than to follow you unless they wish to deliver you to certain death".  
She laughed, a challenging laugh. "I guess you're right, but everything went well enough".  
"It has. But you may not always be so lucky". He crossed his arms and answered her laughter with a piercing glance.  
"It wasn't luck-".  
"It was foolish-".  
"Cassandra was with me".  
"She is a human being too, you know".  
"So I'm told".  
He couldn't suppress a laugh. "And that's why it will be best for you to have your back covered. Just in case".  
"I can only promise that I'll be more careful next time".  
"I'm not dropping this matter, Lavellan. I will gain support from the other advisors at the war council tomorrow. You won't do anything so reckless ever again".  
She sighed and looked away from him, sparing him for a moment from the venom in her words, contemplating the snowy mountains in the distance. Their crests glistened in the dark.  
Another minute of silence. He could feel his heart beating loudly in his chest and was sure that if she only looked carefully she could have seen him shaking. 'It's the lyrium', he thought. It was always the lyrium.  
"And how have you been this month?". She turned to look at him. Her gaze still distant, she seemed almost uninterested.  
"Fine, I- Fine, thank you".  
"Mh-mh. Fine".  
Silence again. She pursed her lips.  
"Are you sure?", she asked, in a new feeble effort to break his defenses.  
"Yes-I... Why do you ask?".  
"Oh, I just thought, I don't know, that maybe the- the lyrium-".  
"I'm fine", he cut her short. "Just a few headaches". It was always the lyrium.  
"All right, I believe you". She didn't and she made it perfectly clear by the quick look she threw at him.  
He had nothing to say anymore. Just hearing that word - lyrium - made him feel sick.  
"Well I- if that's all... I mean, goodnight". He turned away, took one step.  
"Wait! ...are you still mad at me?".  
"Mad at you? For what?”.  
"The things I said... is that why you...". She hadn't moved. Only now was she really looking at him. She looked concerned. ‘Andraste preserve me’. He went back to his former position and readied himself.  
"What?".  
"I never gave you the- occasion of explaining to me, no, complaining about my behaviour with you. That night, at the tavern. Or, that day, at the war council".  
"Complain? I... I don’t need to complain. I don't need to tell you anything about it".  
"Nothing at all? Then why have you been avoiding me?".  
He couldn't answer.  
"Is it... me or- or the lyrium?".  
"No!". His voice came out louder than he had intended. "No, I mean- yes, it's the lyrium". He gave up. He really couldn't do it. Talking with her like that.  
She started playing with her hair, like she usually did. Silence loomed again between them - 'It always does'.  
"Well, I don't hate templars... not anymore. Mmm, how should I put it... I still hate them, but not as bad as before. Not- you". She chuckled lightly. "Killing red templars every other day has really helped me dealing with that issue".  
He silently thanked the Maker for her light character, her natural need to joke, to defuse situations like that.  
"I'm glad to hear it".  
"Good".  
In that moment, a sudden thought crossed his mind: things that went unsaid pressing on him together with that looming silence, as if they came down with the moonlight and caught him with its rays. His mouth opened and spoke before he could prevent it. As it usually did when she was around.  
"I have to tell you something". He cursed himself silently, clenching his hands into fists. Too late to turn back. Not from her. He shouldn’t have stayed. "The truth is that I was - moved by that night. By what you told me in the tavern. I mean, I - I've seen my fair share of people I held dear die in front of me. At Kinloch, that's what- happened. I guess I can understand how you felt- feel like". He hesitated, looked at the clear landscape before him and started rubbing the back of his neck with a shaky hand. 'Do not shake'. "I admired your courage. Your ability to share what happened to you, a gift which I clearly lack". He could hear her muffled laughter. He looked at her, swallowed and took in her image before stepping into the unknown.  
"By the way, I've been looking for your sister for some time-".  
“What?!", she almost yelled as she grabbed the merlon in front of her. She stared at him in shock and all he could do was nod hesitantly.  
"Why haven't you told me sooner?! What - have you discovered something?".  
"I'm sorry, I should have", he quickly said, cursing himself again, "I would have liked to tell you if I found out something more significant. I'm quite sure that she was taken to Starkhaven's Circle - or what had been rebuilt of it after the fire that took it down years ago. But after the riots that erupted there, we're still not sure of where she could possibly be. Her phylactery was destroyed, so there is a fat chance that her escape was planned and that she may have had help from the inside. This means that templars can't track her down and that she can go wherever she - oh, I don't want to bring her in - I mean, if you fear that I might hand her over to the templars, that's not my intention. I want to make contact with her. Leliana has helped too, some of her people have joined mine. It's not a conspicuous group, but I trust their efficiency. Inquisitor".  
"How could I ever think that you wanted to turn her in?". She looked at him, her arms now inert along her body. She blinked a few times and averted her eyes, she tidied her nightgown and her hair, her hands moving quickly and nervously.  
"Will you keep me informed about it?".  
"Of course. I will hand you the few reports I have on the case first thing tomorrow morning".  
"Thank you, Commander".  
"You're welcome".  
She didn't look at him anymore, he had done everything wrong again. She tugged at her hair and gazed insistently towards the moon-kissed landscape before them.  
"Are you mad at me?", he hesitantly said.  
"Very much so", she quickly answered. She did look mad, but, thank the Maker, she didn't seem outraged, offended or disdained. Her eyes darted pure anger towards him and that he could endure.  
"I can... accept it".  
"Do you think that she is...alive?", she quickly asked, her voice no more than a whisper.  
"I- I suppose so", he said. The truth was that he really did not know, but he felt compelled to comfort her. "She could be. You have no idea how many mages Hawke managed to smuggle out of Kirkwall under our noses back in those days. Even under Meredith's surveillance! And some of them turned out well, I think. One went to study in Tevinter... All those disappearances or supposedly dead blood mages whose corpses we could not find... In the end, it made perfect sense, it had been her doing, but I'm glad now that I took her word. I did some research on one of them after the rebellion, just out of curiosity. Well, he escaped to Tevinter too. Found shelter in a magister's household. But - I'm sorry, I digress. I just wanted to say that I believe that your sister is fine".  
He heard her chuckle lightly beside him, though her expression remained concerned.  
"Yes... Orawen was better at taking care of herself than any of us when we were little… And she is a powerful mage. Though this doesn’t comfort me at all…”.  
“We will intensify the researches if you wish”.  
“I should be the one searching for her”. She sighed. “I gave up”.  
“That’s not true-”.  
“It is. I shouldn’t be here complaining, I should be out there looking for her”.  
“You have been delayed with many setbacks, you shouldn’t blame yourself. You’ve been proclaimed Herald of Andraste and Inquisitor, many things have been asked from you, you have saved-”.  
“It doesn’t matter”.  
“Well, the good thing is that now you have enough people and resources to carry out a well-targeted research. It wouldn’t have been possible before. By all means, the operation is now under your command, if you wish”.  
He waited for a few seconds, but she didn’t answer. She stayed still, her eyes lost in the landscape glistening afar, she gave no sign of wanting to continue to discuss that topic. He looked at her quietly, trying to decipher her expression. He couldn't.  
"And do you blame me for having sided with the mages?", she asked after some time, as if to continue a conversation they had previously started. Her voice rang in the silent night that surrounded them.  
"I don't blame you", he chuckled, trying to follow her example and lighten the heavy atmosphere. "You took a decision when you were asked to and it turned out fine. Maybe I didn't approve of your discussion methods...". He managed to make her laugh a little. "But I don't blame you, no. And even if I did, it's all gone now".  
"But you would have preferred to have the templars on our side".  
Cullen sighed. "Mages or templars... it seems that my whole life has been revolving around this question".  
"And? Have you come to a still point? Or is it still revolving?".  
"I don't know. But I understand many things now that I wish I knew before".  
She turned towards him and inspected him closely, crossing her arms. He sustained her gaze and then quickly dropped it. They were silent again for some time and Cullen didn't know if it was just him who felt tense or if even she could feel it.  
"I must ask you something". Again, his mouth moved before he could even command it, those words escaping him without his brain having really thought them. He vigorously cursed himself, no turning back again, he had to plunge into the void.  
"Of course".  
"I heard that there is a... a rumour running around, gossip about - about me, in fact. You don't happen to know anything about it?". He regretted every single word he had said. She didn't answer for a few seconds and he watched her opening and closing her mouth a few times, a funny smile on her lips.  
"What rumour?", she eventually asked, casually.  
He scratched his neck uncomfortably and fidgeted. No turning back. He exhaled loudly.  
“You know, the one… The one about me and Lysette", he mumbled.  
"Oh, so her name is Lysette!", she exclaimed and then immediately froze on the spot. He pierced her with an ice-cold stare.  
"So ...you do know about it".  
"Well... yes?".  
He suppressed the irrational anger that assailed him and started pacing to and fro, while Riwan crossed her arms tightly, the chilly wind finding its way under the thin layers of cloth that she was wearing. He started a sentence once or twice and then gave up.  
"It's useless", he snapped. “How could… How?”.  
“I have no idea!”, she hurriedly answered.  
“You have no idea”, he said bitterly, looking briefly at her. “That- that rumor is nonsense and you- you... I'm sorry, I should go". He turned tail and made for the tower, biting his tongue.  
"Then it’s not true?". Her voice called after him, urgent.  
He sighed and turned to look at her luminescent eyes again.  
"No", he said.  
They held each other’s gaze for a few seconds before he quickly said:  
“Goodnight”, and escaped from her presence.


	16. Dwarfson's pass

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS CHAPTER! I've been wanting to post it since FOREVER!  
> And now, the time has come. There is a battle, TOO!  
> I hope you like it!

### Dwarfson's Pass

They were travelling on horseback through jagged hills. They had left the snowy mountains behind them and the sun was setting. On the hills and at the sides of the gravelled road, conifer trees exuded their balmy perfume. Riwan was on the front of their little group. She patted her halla on its back and looked at the little puffs of breath coming out of the animal’s mouth. Cassandra was riding beside her. She was shuffling with a torch which she would soon light and had let the harness dangling from her steed’s neck. Their silence was sometimes broken by Varric and Dorian, who were whispering and chuckling behind them in hushed voices. No one dared to speak out loud and aside from her two companions’ occasional chit chat, Riwan could only hear the calls of the nocturnal birds of the forest crying from tree to tree, the sound of a faint wind making the pine needles rustle softly, the hooves of their mounts on the earth and gravel, accompanied by the occasional puffing and panting. At the rear of the small group, Cullen and four of his most skilled corporals rode Fereldan Forders, tall and sturdy. They still had a few hours to ride and Riwan dearly wished to reach Dwarfson’s pass as soon as possible. She was afraid they might run into a pack of wolves… or worse. Both Cullen and Cassandra didn’t carry any Inquisition symbol on their armours: they had planned that mission into detail and had decided that they couldn’t afford to be recognized by anyone, lest some rumour of their presence in the area may reach unwanted ears.   
“Just another few hours, Inquisitor”, Cassandra’s voice startled her.  
“Yes”, Riwan answered. Her voice came out muffled by the thick hood on her head.

When two mornings before Riwan had entered the war room, she found all of the advisors and Cassandra waiting for her. Their solemn and grave looks made her eager to joke: “All right, what did I do wrong, this time?”, she chuckled, raising her hands to show that she was unarmed. No one made a show of appreciating her joke, save perhaps for Josephine, the only one who smiled at her.  
“Inquisitor, we have been waiting for you”, Leliana said, her steely gaze always unfathomable.  
“What’s happened?”. She felt unease crawling below her skin.   
“I’ve got news, Inquisitor”, Cullen’s steady voice cut the air, “About that operation you authorized in the Hinterlands some time ago”.  
“Which one?”. She didn’t know why but she immediately relaxed and started to breathe normally again. It couldn’t be that bad and it couldn’t be news about her sister.  
“We tracked down a major red lyrium supply chain”, Cullen continued.   
She quietly looked at him: he looked better than the days before, his face had regained some of its colour and his hands resting on the hilt of his sword. “Their base is in Dwarfson’s pass-”.  
“Dwarfoson’s pass? That can’t be!”, Riwan interrupted him.  
“I told him the same thing, Inquisitor”, Cassandra said. She stood tall beside Cullen and her lips made a straight angry line on her face. “Apparently we missed something”.  
“We searched thoroughly the entire region, I cannot believe it!”. Riwan shook her head. She would not hear of such an insinuation of negligence after all she had suffered in the Hinterlands.  
“Whether you had already found their base and overlooked it is not our problem right now, Inquisitor”, Leliana froze her, “Cullen’s agents and mine have found a cave from which a great deal of shipments of lyrium are sent abroad. They believe that the cave leads to an unguarded waterway”.  
“Where do those shipments go?”, Riwan asked.  
“We do not know yet, but we have discovered two things worthy of our particular attention. One of my men died in trying to retrieve this information: he was discovered by the red templars. Fortunately enough, the other scouts found his body. He had time to scribble something and he carried the message in his hand: ‘ledger’. The cave may contain a ledger that tracks more than just this supply chain. We must get a hold of it”.  
“Yes, and furthermore”, Cullen continued after Leliana, “We have discovered that the leader of this chain is Gislain. I met the man once or twice in Kirkwall. I believe he is one of Samson’s favourites. He is highly dangerous and we must catch him”.  
“All right”. Riwan swallowed and rested her hands on the great map of Thedas that covered the table. Her eyes searched for Dwarfson’s pass: Cullen had already put his signal on it. “When should we leave?”.  
“One of their major shipments will supposedly depart from their base in three days”, Leliana said. “I suggest that you leave the day after tomorrow, in the morning. You should be able to reach your destination in the evening and then be ready to strike before dawn”.  
“All right. Anything else?”.  
“Inquisitor”. Cullen slightly raised his head and frowned, “I wish to accompany you in this mission. Any blow we strike on Samson should be my blow too”.  
“Very well, Commander. It will be an honor to fight by your side”.   
“And for me by your side, Inquisitor”.

They reached their camp in Dwarfson’s pass after that long and silent ride. Riwan was sitting near the fire, wrapped in a woollen cover from which only her feet emerged. She looked intently at the flames emitting sparks and snaps while Cullen, sitting opposite her, got over their plan for the morning speaking out loud with his soldiers. Just like Cassandra, he could bear the weather just in a thin shirt and breeches. The Seeker was having a long conversation with one of the scouts, while Dorian and Varric were freshening up at a nearby spring.  
“While you stand guard outside, we will enter the cavern. What’s our main objective, Inquisitor?”.  
“Finding Gislain”, Riwan answered with a bored voice. As if they hadn’t gotten over and over that stupid plan for hours in the war room.  
“Yes. And-”.  
“The first who sees him goes after him”.  
“No. It will be either Cassandra or me You don’t know that man, Inquisitor”, Cullen said, searching for her eyes through the flames of the fire.  
“I have already fought some red templar’s knights”, Riwan said. She started playing with her hair, begging silently for a dreamless sleep to come.  
“You will stick to the plan, Inquisitor”. Cullen looked furious and menacing even without his armour on.   
“I will stick to the plan”, she mumbled. She got up, sighing: true, her dealings with Cullen had gotten better in the last week, he didn’t avoid her anymore and he could talk to her almost normally, he even let her enter his study but… Mythal, was he obsessed with his work. Since she’d rather laugh and relax than speculating over their probable death in battle, she went in search of Varric and Dorian.  
Just as she reached the limit of the camp, the two returned with damp hair and placid faces.  
“Are you nervous, Riwan?”, Dorian asked. He took her by her arm and led her in front of his tent. She sat on the earth while the mage went in search of a clean towel in his sack. He came out massaging his head.   
“A little bit”, she confessed. “Cullen seems nervous, so-”.  
“Does he? I think he is in his average degree of uptightness”.  
Varric’s chuckles reached them from his tent. “Don’t worry, crazy”, his head popped out from its untied flaps. “It will be alright. The usual crazy shit, just… with two annoying prigs instead of one”.   
Riwan snorted.  
“Varric, if we survive you owe some more Hawke stories!”.  
“When we survive!”, he yelled back.  
“Very well, I’ll see if I can manage to get some sleep”. Riwan got up, tightening the cover around her shoulders. “Goodnight, guys”.  
They both answered and before she went away Dorian took her hand. “Come here, dear”, he said. “Don’t worry”, he cupped her cheek and pushed a strand of her hair behind her ear.   
“That was sweet!”, Riwan said. She smiled broadly and squeezed his hand.  
“Don’t tell anyone”, he whispered, “It may ruin my reputation”.   
“Now I want to kiss you goodnight!”.  
“Go away, elf!”.  
Riwan chuckled and reached her tent in a better mood. She eyed Cullen from afar: he was still sitting in front of the fire, talking quietly with Cassandra. Their words were indiscernible and she stood there for a moment, tracing his profile with her eyes.

They moved as quietly as possible in the shadows. Riwan’s new battlemaster armour adhered perfectly to her body. The shiny silver of its metal glistened in the still, dark morning. The arms and legs of dark green cloth and the long boots made of great bear hide blended into the surrounding shadows. Her breaths were shallow and her heart pounded fiercely.   
She was following Cassandra and Cullen, Dorian and Varric were at her sides and the four soldiers were following behind them. They had no torch, they couldn’t risk being seen. Hearing the birds chirping and tweeting made her feel like she was living a dream: their gaiety and levity conflicted sharply with their mood and task. The hills of Dwarfstone’s pass loomed over them. The sky was starting to lighten up, but the stars and the waning moon were still visible above. They marched for some time, their breaths and the occasional snap from a stepped-on twig the only things audible. Their weapons slightly clanged and rattled, but the wind covered the noise. They passed a few dead trees and saw from afar the big black mouth of a cave, barely hidden by dry bushes and shrubberies.   
Riwan could have sworn that they had already raided it months ago and could not understand how it was possible that an entire branch of the lyrium smuggling trade had been established right there, in the middle of an Inquisition controlled area.  
Cullen signaled them to stop. They all took cover behind a big, dead tree that laid down on their way.   
“No one in sight”, Cullen said, his voice perfectly audible, though he had barely whispered.  
“They must already be inside”, Cassandra said.  
“Very good”, he lowered his visor. “Do you all remember the details of our plan?”.  
They all murmured in approval.  
“Good. Stick to it”, he commanded, with a perentory voice. Riwan took that blow with a muffled groan, adjusting the helm on her head.  
“At my sign…”, Cullen continued. Blood rushed through her veins, her feet tickled unpleasantly as she moved her right hand towards the quiver on her back. She held onto an arrow and waited. “Three”. They all breathed in. She could hear the faint click coming from Bianca, meaning that it had been loaded. “Two”. The warriors tightened their grip on their swords and shields. “One”. Dorian raised his luminescent staff. “Let’s move!”.  
They sprang into a quick run towards the mouth of the cave.   
“Soldiers!”, Cullen barked. Their party broke through the templars stationed in front of the entrance, leaving them to their rear guard.   
Riwan ran, cold-blooded, the cave was pitch black. Sounds of the soldiers fighting behind them echoed through the tunnel. She followed the broad figures of Cullen and Cassandra in front of her. They were making a lot of noise. Someone inside would certainly hear them. A faint orange glow appeared at the end of the tunnel and as soon as she found herself under the tall, arched vault of the cavern, mayhem unleashed.   
She immediately leaped onto a nearby rock with a yell, while Cullen and Cassandra broke through a group of soldiers with their shields. The templars started screaming, barking orders, swearing. She looked at the battlefield below her: they were too many.   
Dorian quickly escaped the grasp of one of them with a mental explosion and ran on the other side of the cavern, stabbing an archer with his staff.  
“Think!”, Riwan yelled to herself. An arrow reached her and got stuck in her armour. ‘Take down the archers. Look for Gislain’, she thought. She shot her first arrow and hit one of the templars right in the crevice between the armour and the helm. ‘One gone. Do not tremble’. She shot a glance below. Cassandra and Cullen were covering themselves with their shields. Too many. She shot a soldier who had flanked Cassandra: injured. The Seeker swiftly turned in time to kill him. Another arrow reached her: another one of their archers went down by her repeated blows. Varric shouted: “Help the dwarf!”, he was surrounded. Dorian summoned a chain of lightning that stalled the templars for a few seconds, allowing Varric to stealthily run away. The smell of burnt meat made her stomach turn. Another arrow, another archer hit on the foot, Varric finished him before he received a blow himself. She looked down again. ‘Too many!’, she screamed in her mind.   
She reached for her satchel and right at that moment Varric’s voice reached her: “No bombs! It’s too dangerous!”.  
She shot another arrow, another archer injured. She yelled over the loud cries: “Just one?”.  
“All right, just one!”.   
She took out a single bomb and threw it with practiced movements on the battlefield below, away from Cullen and Cassandra, towards the templars’ closed ranks. Its boom was deafening. The cave’s walls and vault trembled, a few red templars were knocked out and they all stumbled, trying to steady their ground, holding onto what they could. Cullen reached for Cassandra’s arm and they managed not to fall. Varric was pushed against one of the damp walls with a loud thud, while Dorian had taken cover behind a rock: the soldier who had stalked him was ripped apart by the explosion. A second of stillness followed and her eyes locked onto a running figure. Gislain. In the same moment Varric loaded Bianca, Dorian covered her with a barrier and Cullen sprinted towards the passage that Gislain had taken.  
“Someone, with me!”, he yelled.   
“I’ll go!”, Riwan immediately shouted. She jumped down the rock. “We’ll cover you!”, Varric shouted back, annihilating with Bianca whoever tried to stop her. A fallen soldier grabbed her ankle, but a lightning bolt fried his hand. Riwan turned and exchanged a quick look with Dorian: he was smiling. She left them behind, dealing with that little army, and she ran furiously, trying to catch up with Cullen.   
She nearly bumped into him at the mouth of another smaller vault that opened on a little beach opposite from the entrance, barely visible in the faint daylight. He was facing Gislain, three Shadows and two archers. They were all still for a moment, his shield was high. The walls of the cavern around them sweated fresh water, its droplets fell upon them from the stalactites above, moss covered a few rocks on the ground. A gust of air reached them and made her breathe.  
“I’m here”, she quickly said.  
“Let’s begin”, he growled.  
She jumped on the side, exhaling loudly, shooting one of the archers. He didn’t go down but he was wounded. Cullen charged past the Shadows, who quickly disappeared in a cloud of smoke, onto Gislain. The templar was enormous, his armour had shards of red lyrium that pierced it, he carried a single-handed axe that shook the ground with heavy blows. She quickly assessed the situation: they were heavily outnumbered. ‘Focus’, she thought.  
She tried to ignore Cullen’s and Gislain fighting before her, she had to concentrate on the other red templars, cover his back, not let them touch him. She took down the injured archer right after he shot her on her breastplate - no damage taken. She sensed a change in the air behind her and quickly jumped away, escaping one of the Shadows’ grasp. She shot the other archer on his foot from her crouching position, his arrow hitting her in the same moment as hers hit him. She darted away again - a Shadow appeared where she had been standing barely a second before. She heard Cullen swearing, he had parred a blow from Gislain and was kneeling on the ground behind his shield. She ran towards him, shooting the archer again, and stood by his back. She saw the silhouette of a Shadow beside her and shot it with a yell. The arrow struck, its tip deep in the templar’s shoulder: now it would not be so easy for the Shadow to disappear. “Move!”, Cullen yelled, Gislain’s axe missing them by an inch. “I’ve got it!”, he yelled again. She moved, took out the archer and then started a death dance with the shadows. She jumped and shot, most of her arrows missing or scraping them. Where a Shadow suddenly appeared with a roar and a jump, from there she would dodge with a cry and roll. She loaded another arrow, pulled the bowstring to its maximum, aiming to a Shadow behind Cullen’s figure when one suddenly appeared in front of her. She shrieked and let the arrow go. It passed through the Shadow’s head, cutting a clear hole into it, its tail protruding from its bloodied forehead: the templar fell at her feet.  
“One out!”, she desperately cried, catching her breath, attracting the attention of the Shadow that was stalking Cullen. She was exhausted, while Cullen seemed tireless as he continued to dodge Gislain’s blows - they hit the walls, Cullen’s shield, making him lose his balance, producing a terrible swishing sound. But still, he stood, his superior agility giving him a slight advantage of movement upon the Knight. The buzz of the red lyrium from its armour was sickening.  
Riwan ran around, in search of the other two shadows. Her ears strained to hear word from their party behind. Something hit her back and she fell to the floor. A sharp pain in her shoulder made her lose focus for a second. She barely managed to roll away before the Shadow appeared and struck again: her quiver made a cracking sound behind her back and - she had lost her bow. She quickly looked around her, panic closing her throat: the bow wasn’t far, but the Shadow was nearer. She saw the other one left appearing behind Cullen.  
“No!”, she yelled.  
But in that moment a lightning bolt reached it, making it collapse to the ground. “Come here, you filth!”. Dorian’s voice rang through the vault as daylight started to lighten the cave. The shadow got up and ran in pursuit of the mage. The last Shadow, distracted by the spell, hadn’t moved yet. Riwan ran towards her bow, gritting her teeth through her pain. The Shadow looked at her and disappeared. She squinted, arrow ready. She looked at Cullen. He crouched and dodged another of Gislain’s thunderous blows and then, with a lunge that she could barely see due to his swiftness, he struck the Knight in a damaged part of his armour. He yelled loudly, pushing with all his weight onto his sword.   
It all happened in a few seconds: she saw an opening under Gislain’s helm and she shot. The arrow made him stop opposing resistance and as Cullen landed him to the ground with a final yell, the last Shadow appeared in front of her and pushed the bow away from her hands. She screamed in rage and exasperation. Cullen quickly turned and tried to extract his sword from Gislain’s body, that had fallen down with a loud, sick thud, his foot onto him as leverage. She did not think, she did not know what she was doing: her right hand ran to her side while she raised her left and summoned energy from the Fade, enveloping the Shadow inside it. They both struck.   
Cullen yelled: the figures of Riwan and the templar stood motionless in front of him, one onto the other, the green light vanishing from her hand with crackling noises.   
“Riwan!”, he yelled. He threw away his helm and ran, but before his hand could reach her, he saw her quietly raising her face. A faint smile and the Shadow fell at her feet. He stopped and stared at her for one moment, his heart in his throat.   
She had a dagger in her hand, covered in dark blood that spilled onto her gauntlet and onto the ground. The claw that hit her had left a gash on her side. Rays of pale light started to flood the cave, the sound of the river at its end finally audible now that the battle had ceased.   
He stumbled towards her. “Are you all right?”, he was panting deeply. His hair a wild mess around his head, sweat all over his face, blood covered his armour.  
She exhaled loudly a few times, then raised her trembling arms to her helm. She took it off and threw it to the ground.   
“Yes...”, she said through her breath, raising her eyes towards him. A disbelieving smile was on her face as she raised the bloodied dagger and showed it to him. A chuckle made its way through her shallow breaths.   
“The dagger…”, she panted. She couldn’t stop giggling, she felt a little mad.   
He broke into a smile and laughed too, finally relaxing his shoulders. He put his hand on his face. “Thank the Maker!”, he murmured.  
They stood there awkwardly and looked at each other.  
“We should go back to the others”, he said, eventually, still panting.  
“Yes, but- Let’s count to ten, all right? To catch our breath”.  
He threw her a quizzical look. “All right”, he said, not really convinced of this strategy.   
They were facing each other. “Ten”. She wiped the dagger on her sleeve and put it back in its sheath as he mindlessly plucked out arrows from her armour, a mechanical gesture which he had done so many times in his life. “Seven”. She looked at his eyes in front of her, his towering height, the tired smile that she could make out on his face. The light of the day behind him drew a crown of his hair. “Six”. They were both still panting. She was sure she could feel his body heat even through both of their armours. “Four”. Was it gross? Was it absurd? Something pulled her, his eyes pulled her. She stood on tiptoes. “Three”, she said onto his lips. She grabbed onto the collar of his armour and kissed him. She felt his dry lips, unmoving between hers, his stubble grazing her skin. She lingered there for a moment and let go, feeling confused. “Zero”.  
She looked at him in fear, he didn’t move, he just gazed at her with fixed eyes, his fists clenched by his side.   
“We should go”, she mumbled. She slipped beside him and took a few paces, feeling dizzy, her vision blurry - she felt her wrist being grabbed strongly, making her stumble back. His free hand went to her waist and he pushed her towards the wall of the cave. He still hold onto her wrist, holding it high, and as his lips reached hers he let his hand slide down her arm to her face, her sane shoulder, her metal-bounded body. He kissed her roughly, searchingly, lips against lips and tongues. Her head spun as she tried to reply to his hurry, her hands grabbing tightly onto his mantel, pressed onto the wall, his body against hers, her armour a hated barrier between her skin and his gloved hands. Her wounds hurt but she could barely feel them burn. She bit his lip and just as he started to kiss her jaw-  
“Cullen!”, Cassandra’s voice echoed through the vault. They froze. He stood for a moment with his face against hers, a shocked expression painted all over his features. His eyes darted on her for a brief second. “I-I’m sorry”, he whispered. “We should go”.  
“I’m here”, he shouted back, clearing his throat and leaving her standing against the damp wall. She felt the heat on her face evaporating, droplets of water falling through her hair and on her forehead. She confusedly stood on her own feet again and took the bow off the ground. She moved in swift and rigid movements, her head spinning, screaming, feeling as if nothing around her made sense anymore. Her cheeks flushed again after that moment of coolness and before she could regain her composure Dorian was beside her.  
“There you are!”. Cassandra, Varric and Cullen followed him as two soldiers started to search the cavern. The Commander’s gaze was gloomy and shaken, his neck and ears nearly crimson. “What took you so long?”, Dorian lightly said.  
“I-uhm… I was buried under this Shadow’s body. Right, Commander?”.  
Cullen’s eyes rapidly met hers in alarm. “Yes”, he blurted out. “I had to take her out from under it”.  
Dorian chuckled. “Well, we had fun back there! Killed them all. I see you have done your share of work too”.  
Again, they exchanged panicked glances. “Yes!”, they both exclaimed.   
“Crazy, we have been assigned with the noble job of calling our scouts here. Come on. Let’s leave the big ones here on guard”.  
“Can you walk? We should stitch up our wounds, too”, Dorian added.  
She smiled and followed Varric and Dorian, not daring to look back behind her - towards his stormy eyes, his troubled face, his parted scarred lips whose flavour was still on her own.   
‘Mythal, help me’, she thought, stumbling confusedly in the rising rays of the sun that welcomed her outside of the cave.


	17. Not a single word

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, sorry for the delay! I unexpectedly managed to go on holiday and I really needed to defuse! And when I came back this brief chapter was yet to be checked!  
> Anyway, enjoy! Next one will be waaaay longer!!

###  Not a single word 

It was high time for dinner when she finally left her room and made her way to the Herald's Rest.  
Big, dark clouds were pacing the sky and the air was still and warm, statically waiting for  
the rain to fall.  
She had spent the afternoon in lazy unrest and every step she took brought with it memories of the day before: how the Inquisition forces had garrisoned the cave, destroyed the red lyrium and searched thoroughly every nook and cranny. How they had found the ledger and left the Hinterlands. How they had travelled on horseback all day long, reaching Skyhold only when the sky was pitch black and the crows were already fast asleep. How Dorian, Varric and herself had been forced to sleep in the infirmary so that the surgeon could treat their wounds best.  
Dorian had vehemently protested: "My own bed is the only place where I'll be able to rest. I will  
patch up my wounds with magic tomorrow!".  
But it was no use, and they had woken up in two cots, one next to the other, and Riwan had giggled in seeing her friend's floppy moustache and ruffled hair in the morning.  
She stopped for a moment in the courtyard and sat on a wall behind a bunch of trees for a short time, unnoticed by Skyhold's bypassers, covered by the rustling leaves and by the sound of the rising wind. Her shoulder and waist were covered with thick bandages and whenever she moved her arm the wound on her shoulder would sting and burn.  
She inhaled the stormy air, wincing for the pain, and gulped as she finally remembered how during all that time she and Cullen had barely looked at each other and exchanged not even a single word, save from a shy "Goodnight" after leaving their mounts to Dennet.  
She had tried to search his expression with the corner of her eye, careful for the others not to notice her, but all she could see was his chiselled profile, the back of his head, a stain of blood on his neck... 'Mythal'enaste'. And her cheeks flushed in remembering for the millionth time the taste of his lips on her lips, of his tongue, his metal-clad body pressing hers against the wet wall...  
She shook her head, muffling an exasperated moan - right now she would just focus on eating and getting a hold of herself, and as she entered the Herald’s Rest she was welcomed by a warm fire and a chatting crowd who made way for her in the line for the evening ration.  
"Please, I can stay in line and wait!", she begged Segritt.  
"No, Inquisitor, take my place. You've just returned from battle".  
She collected her food and carefully carried the full tray upstairs, where she hoped to find someone from the inner circle already seated.  
Two elves deep in conversation caught her eye before she could distinctly hear Dorian's voice coming from a table nearby. She gave the couple one last look - and then stopped abruptly.  
There, in their table, the one in the corner, near the big, cold windows, drinking and dining in total merriment, were Dorian, Bull, Blackwall, Sera and - Cullen.  
Dorian immediately saw her and Riwan shot him a questioning gaze. He slightly opened his eyes in an apologetic attempt, shrugging his shoulders. She wouldn’t move. Dorian looked around him and stealthily pointed towards Cullen, his eyes questioning hers now. She shook her head in panic. He sighed and raised his eyebrows again. She knew what he meant: ‘I can’t do anything about it, silly elf’.  
"Inquisitor! There you are!", Bull boomed. "Still in one piece! Come sit with us!".  
Riwan begrudgingly obliged him, sitting at the head of the table.  
"Mmm, this stew's delicious Riwan, eat it", Sera welcomed her, sauce greasing her chin and her dress.  
"Yes...", Riwan replied, her temper veering dangerously towards frustration. She prayed for her dark complexion to hide her ever more blushing cheeks.  
"Nasty thing you dealt with at Dwarfson’s pass, Inquisitor”, Blackwall said, “Cullen told me that you were an excellent cover. Ha! No surprise for us who always follow you around”.  
Riwan buried her head down towards her stew. “Thanks, Blackwall…”.  
“I was just telling them about that redhead we saw in Crestwood, remember her, Boss?", Bull said.  
"How could I ever forget her...", Riwan sarcastically said. She started eating her stew, looking  
sideways at Cullen: he sat there, seemingly oblivious to the utterly embarrassing situation they were in. He was in shirt and breeches, his arm hanging loosely on the back of his chair, drinking ale and actually snorting at Bull's words. He didn’t look at her and perhaps the redness of his ears and neck was simply the ale producing its desired effects.  
"Is something the matter, Inquisitor?", Blackwall’s scraping voice reached her, as her eyes darted around in evident distress.  
"What? Not at all".  
"Really? It seems like you're planning our Commander's homicide!", he laughed.  
"I am not", she said through gritted teeth.  
"What- have I done something wrong?", Cullen said, finally noticing himself Riwan's angry look. The others all laughed, save from Dorian, who studied the Inquisitor with knowing and amused eyes from his seat.  
"Not at all, Commander. Nothing wrong - that I know of".  
"Right, I’m- I mean-", he stuttered.  
"Is it true that you’ve been training your new recruits the whole afternoon, while Riwan and I cleverly spent it sleeping like logs, Commander?”, Dorian intervened.  
She mentally thanked Dorian and seized the opportunity of looking openly towards Cullen: he was pale and his eyes were injected with blood, probably for not having slept in the last two days. She felt something tugging at her heart at that sight.  
"Yes, they arrived just yesterday. They can barely tell the hilt of the sword from its blade...".  
“You could have asked me to train them”, Blackwall said, “Take at least this afternoon off”.  
“Or me!”, Bull boomed. He laughed thunderously for no apparent reason aside from his being drunk, “Not that that flat-assed Krem deserves to rest”.  
“How does he manage to stand you, I really do not know”, Dorian quietly remarked.  
"Let's go back to business, Cullen!", Bull boasted, Dorian’s words missing him completely, "I saw a fine one in your ranks too, are you gonna introduce me or do you want to keep her all for yourself?".  
"Who are you talking about?".  
"That young warrior, elfish, blondish, tallish...", Bull said, grinning.  
"Elfish? Boring!", Sera exclaimed, chewing on a bone.  
"Not boring at all, she was eyeing us while we sparred last week, Cullen, didn't you notice her?".  
"Oh, that soldier...".  
"Ha! I knew it! So, what can you tell me about her?", Bull pressed on.  
"You're rather insistent, are you not?", Dorian observed.  
"It's all about-", Bull began.  
"The details! Yew! We all know it, you always say it, ya'boring!", Sera exclaimed.  
"I can't tell you anything about her, anyway", Cullen laughed, "She is one of my soldiers and I don't even know her name".  
"Well, that's too bad. I thought you were the elfish type, Cullen", Bull eyed him and drained his jug.  
"I-uhm...", Cullen looked down.  
Riwan gulped, her eyes feverishly darting from Bull to Cullen now. She felt as if a fireball had hit her right in the face. She could tell that Dorian was starting to get annoyed too, though she knew not why. A clap of thunder made the windows rattle and she briefly rejoiced in the sky’s outrage.  
"Come on, Cullen! We're among friends here! What do you say Boss? Is he not the elfish type?”.  
"Me? What would I have to say about it?". She tried to keep her voice as steady as possible.  
"Let me replenish your jug, Inquisitor", Blackwall said, taking his and her jug and walking downstairs.  
"Hey! Mine too!", Sera yelled after him, "Piss, he's gone".  
Riwan felt the strong desire to open her left hand and unleash magic from the Fade on them all, talking one on the other, joking loudly and jesting as if nothing could trouble them. She swallowed forcefully and decided to endure it all for the moment.  
"Boss, you act so innocently but I know you're not. You can’t hide your true nature from those who travel around with you! Cullen! That girl kept staring at you all day long!".  
"She is one of my soldiers! You-you can't meddle in the chains of command-", Cullen said, starting to blush violently.  
"You don't meddle in the chains of command, you say... I recommend that you try it. And I mean it literally”.  
"Maker's breath", Cullen said, laughing unsurely and shooting a quick glance at Riwan.  
"Why don't we talk about something else? The weather, perhaps?", Dorian interrupted them, "Or... what about the poor state in which we found Adan a few nights ago? Riwan, any thoughts?".  
"Yes, that poor man! Whatever happened to him?".  
"I dare say he was drunk!", Dorian exclaimed.  
“He couldn’t be more drunk than Bull right now”.  
"You two, chickens!", Bull laughed.  
"Here you go, Inquisitor", Blackwall said, handing Riwan a jug full of ale. "And Sera".  
"Yasss", Sera said, satisfied to the brim with her dinner.  
Riwan took a sip of ale, clenching the jug in her nervous hands. Should she try and speak to him or not? And to say what? She watched him closely but he didn't meet her eyes.  
The others continued ranting on, save from Dorian, who watched the sky outside the window become darker by the minute as another thunder growled in the distance.  
"I must go now", Cullen’s voice startled her and made her flinch, "Have a nice evening everyone. Inquisitor". He got up and swiftly walked away, blatantly ignoring Bull's complaints.  
Riwan was shocked. She looked at his empty seat. Not even a single word for her, save for that ‘Inquisitor’. Inquisitor.  
After a few minutes, Dorian got up and whispered in her ear: “I swear I wouldn’t have invited him if I only knew it was a problem for you”. He patted her on the injured shoulder, making her hiss, and went down the stairs to replenish his jug.


	18. The storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW?!

###  The storm 

A faint light flickering in the night, visible even through the heavy, chilly rain which was carried by violent gusts of wind.  
He walked out, feverish, until he could barely feel his icy hands in the cold weather, until his clothes were soaked.  
No soldier was surprised by seeing him wander around.  
He barely knew what he was doing: like a moth he had been attracted by that small, hopeful light. Now that he was inside the keep he felt lost, his brain darting randomly from one thought to the other, trying to grasp on a single, fleeting intention that had made itself clear and manifest: explain himself. So he went on, like he was possessed by a demon, he nearly jogged past the first door, until he reached the second one on top of the stairs. He inspired and knocked.  
The only answer came from the lightning and the thunder outside of the rattling windows.  
He knocked again. His hands were trembling and he could barely move them. Perhaps he had been wrong, perhaps he had imagined it all, perhaps he had finally gone mad. He took a few steps away when he suddenly heard a pounding sound of feet running down a flight of stairs, and then the door creaked and a figure appeared in the now opened gap. Gleaming eyes.  
"Is everything all-oh".  
"I'm sorry- I didn't know if- I thought I saw the light on and so- I was going away".  
But she opened the door and looked at him, standing on the other side of the threshold: she was clean and dry, her body barely covered by white cotton pajamas, while he was soaked and tired and his brain was a mess. Her clarity made him squint his eyes.  
"I didn't mean to bother you", he went on, "did I wake you up?".  
"No. Come inside", she whispered.  
Maker, he was shaking. His body moved without him knowing it, following her up the stairs, into her room. He inhaled and exhaled while she sat on the bed and he stood standing, at a loss on what to do, on why he had come to her chambers after he had left the dinner table in such decidedly a manner.  
He looked at her for a few moments, in a hurried manner enquired after her health and then walked about the room. She said no word. After what seemed a long silence he said: "Do you mind if I open the window?".  
She shot a glance at the window behind the clear Dalish curtains: it was clunking from the wind, the rain poured on the balcony, the weather was as dreadful as it could ever be.  
"I... don't mind".  
He quickly thanked her and opened it slightly. The wind immediately entered the room, howling fiercely, making both of them shiver, the sound of the storm echoed angrier than before. He breathed in the cold air and finally found the strength to go towards her. He looked agitated, his face strained and controlled.  
"I couldn't sleep", he said.  
"Neither did I...".  
He fell silent again but continued to pace her room.  
"I must tell you, no- I must apologize for what happened at Dwarfson's pass".  
"You must apologize?", she said after a few seconds, her voice flat and astonished.  
"Yes...". He looked at her and stopped pacing for the briefest second. "It was not appropriate-".  
"Not appropriate?", she raised her voice.  
"Yes. It was- unprofessional of me-".  
"Unprofessional? Is that why earlier you talked about chains of command?".  
"No! It wasn't- it was- Nevermind earlier, it wasn't about you. The situation yesterday- it was not proper for such a thing".  
"Cullen, are you serious? I kissed you first, remember? Have you come to scold me, then? Have I been inappropriate to you?".  
"No. No, you weren't". He exhaled sharply and raised a hand towards his face, wiping his forehead and massaging the bridge of his nose. He was already losing the argument. Hadn't he already learnt at his own expenses that he would always succumb to her? He could barely look at her now: her gaze was steady, locked to him, her voice did not falter, her expression certain. She was solid, while he was floundering. But he must go on. He must not sway from his purpose: making her understand, explain himself. He tried to erase her accusations from his mind, tried not to think about the cavern at Dwarfson's pass.  
"Then why have you come?", she asked.  
"Why did you do that?", he finally said. He compelled himself to look at her, to stop in his nervous movements, to test her sincerity.  
"Do I need to spell it out for you?".  
"No-yes!”, he scoffed and started pacing again, “Yes, why does it always have to be so... so skin-deep with you?! Why? You're the Inquisitor and I'm the Commander of your army. It is simply good sense that goes against it-".  
"Good sense? What are you talking about?".  
"I tried my best not to get involved, but you- Maker! One can never speak with you without falling into personal matters and-".  
"And? What's the problem?", she got up. The power emanated by her certain figure made him hesitate even more on his purpose. "What's the problem with speaking about personal matters? If I want to know you better that's what I normally do, I do not avoid you for weeks for the Creators know why!".  
"This thing again! I didn't avoid you, I already told you-".  
"Bullshit! For this entire month- save that night, on the ramparts- I thought I was the only one... When I learnt that you and Lysette weren't a thing I thought that maybe I had a chance. Perhaps it wasn't the right moment, but after all that time you were there in front of me and you were smiling...".  
"A chance?". His heart skipped a beat. A clap of thunder made the windows shake behind them and gusts of wind sent goosebumps on his skin. Her words made him desperate, he felt panic travelling through his spine. "Did you really mean it? Yesterday. Did you really wanted to?". He could barely recognize his own voice as he spoke. He had never heard it like this, not even when he prayed.  
"Do you think I mistook you for someone else? Have I not made a fool enough of myself for you to understand?", she said.  
His mind swayed from its purpose, but he had to prove his value to himself, to stick to his hard-learnt discipline, to protect her from himself. He grasped for the right words in his dry throat, he tried to control his body, he tried not to be drawn towards her gravity, her steadiness, he owed it to her.  
"No, _you_ must understand! This is the best of me, the best you'll ever see! Without lyrium I'm not what I used to be- have you really thought about that? What does it mean to withdraw from it? It leaves nothing but the shadow of oneself-".  
"I have thought about it", she replied in a low voice, but he didn't want to hear her.  
"Everything I've done in the last month was- I didn't want you to see the wreckage of a man that I am. I am ashamed of myself and I didn't want you to know- even the simplest actions are a struggle for me and I can't sleep, I'm haunted, I- I'm not someone to rely on- you wouldn't like me if you knew- no, it would be unjust for me to let you-".  
Her voice reached him again, low, the opposite of his loud and angry one: "I like this wreckage of a man".  
There was silence between them and only the noises from the storm outside filled the tense void. But it wasn't void, because he was looking at her, her every word and gaze destroying all of his self-control, all of his determination, all of his noble purposes. He dropped his arms, he could find it no more in his heart to go on like this. Not if what she was saying was true. 'I like this wreckage of a man', it pierced his heart, his brain felt intoxicated and he pleaded to the Maker for it to be true, he pleaded that this elusive sensation that swelled in his chest for perhaps the first time in his life was true.  
"Are you serious? The Maker knows I am, but you don't know- you don't know what it means...".  
"Even if I didn't know, why would I care? It's my choice. I kissed you because I like you and I wouldn't mind doing it again".  
He looked at the white fabric of her pajamas embracing her body, at the unmade bed behind her, at the candle on her desk that couldn't compete with the light shed by lightning and by her gleaming eyes.  
He swallowed. "I wouldn't allow you to waste your time with- this", he lifted his shaking hands and showed them to her. "But if you want to-", his voice was croaking through the howls of the wind and he wondered if she could really hear him, "If you want to, you must know that I won't be able to go back from it".  
She stared at him, she looked hesitant. It was done: he had said it and this could be his death sentence and her liberation.  
But, "Neither will I, Cullen...", she said.  
And all the rationality with which he had desperately tried to act left him and he felt a kind of hope that he last felt twenty years before, when he was still a child, and blood rushed through his veins once again like a chant to the Maker.  
"You said that...", he said, smiling weakly, searching her expression, still not believing her.  
But her gaze was true and she lifted her chin and her hand went towards him. He took a few uncertain steps towards that hand and he touched her shoulder and her face with trembling fingers, and then - ‘Maker, grant me just this single wish’: taking her into his shaky arms, the whole of her body against his, breathing her in, a smell of elfroot and rosemary, strengthening the grip around her waist.  
Another granted wish: feeling her mouth again, a blessing from the Maker, her fresh lips and tongue and his hands moved without him controlling them, tracing her back, her jaws, and he kissed her neck as her hands lifted his shirt, the wind infuriated against his shoulder blades, but they were warmed by her hands and he could not feel the cold. His body still went on by its own, pushing her to the bed, collapsing on it with her still inside his arms. He grabbed her shoulder-  
A restrained scream.  
"Maker! I'm sorry!", he nearly yelled as she yelped and tried to muffle her cry in the covers beneath her. It was her injured shoulder. He had opened her wound.  
Everything defused in a few blurred minutes, as panic got the best of him again and he insisted to renew the medication, for blood had spilled under the bandages and he cursed himself repeatedly and his carelessness too. She finally gave in, through tears and laughter, and he treated the wound carefully, rubbing it softly with ointment and covering it with fresh bandages, his years in Kirkwall giving him enough confidence to do a nice job even if his hands were shaking and her proximity made him sweat. He could feel her breath on the side of his face.  
"It's done. Not as good as the surgeon's but it will hold for the night. Perhaps tomorrow you'd better have Solas look at it... I'm so sorry".  
"Don't be", she chuckled and moved her shoulder back and forth, wincing slightly, "It was pretty comic...".  
He growled and looked away in frustration. Nothing was comic about it.  
They fell silent again for some time until she spoke again.  
"Anyway, we're still here, you know... Well, probably it will be dawn soon, but we have some time left...".  
Her voice tentative, balmy to his ears, her eyes alluring, the green light from the mark sparkled once between them and her figure seemed so unreal - as if he had just stepped into the sun and couldn't make out the world around him.  
"Well, only if you want to...", she mumbled, looking down.  
'Maker grant me another wish', he pulled her towards him and threw his boots to the ground, her shirt was gone too and she giggled when he kissed her neck again, 'It tickles', she said, but then she stopped him: "Don't touch my back, please".  
"Don't touch...".  
"My back, you know, my...", 'Scar', he thought, though she didn't say it, "-don't touch it".  
"All right, but this wound...", he said, barely touching her bandaged waist.  
"It's on the front, it doesn't hurt".  
"All right", he exhaled deeply.  
'Don't touch her back', he repeated in his head, as he caressed her dark skin, her thighs, felt her hands in his hair as her mouth didn't want to leave his and her hands and mouth felt holy on his damaged flesh.  
But the Maker could grant another wish: her tattoos, following their course on her body, a suppressed thought, discarded, avoided every night. He kissed them slowly now, on her forehead, her smiling cheeks and chin, her throat, on her collarbones, down the middle of her chest and belly, through her giggles that made him smile too, on her hips and between her thighs, he pulled her shorts off and she exhaled and her body quivered, trembling, hot and humid against him that made him burn, and the sound of her breath dulled that of the rain and thunder.  
Yet another wish granted: she fumbled with the straps on his breeches, cursing under her breath, and soon all of their clothes were on the floor, her hands on him sent a jolt through his nerves to the tips of his fingers.  
Her hair pulled in his hand - another granted wish, blood rushing faster through his body, her eyes glowing and she was beneath him, her legs around him- "Slow, it's been some time", she whispered.  
He saw the room turn white with lightning as his wishes turned to prayers, prayers that took form in reality - another granted wish inside her, as his back flexed and her skin rubbed against his as he went, softly as he could, slowly as she had said, though his mind raced and his heart too, "I think I'm having a heart attack", she was laughing, an incredulous expression, but she begged him with kisses to go on, and Maker one of her legs on his shoulder, praise to Andraste.  
Another prayer taking form when she pressed him back and slowly pushed herself over him, 'Don't touch her back' he kept on thinking as her body moving, her hands clenched around his neck, made him impatient, 'Don't touch her back', so he grabbed her swaying buttocks and didn't know anymore how long he could resist like that, inside her, her chest in front of his face which he traced with his lips and tongue - Maker, grant me another wish - her rhythmic movement on him, rubbing and deep. "Maker...", it escaped his lips, "Wait?", she asked under her breath.  
He tried but he could not, the sound of body against body over that of the rain, her real smell in his nostrils, her flavour on his tongue, her bare skin onto his, her hands caressing him and touching him and clenching his back and his shoulders and the burning sensation grew on him as she moved faster and he buried his fingers in her neck and her bottom, 'Don't touch her back', he only thought, but Maker she was over him, all of his senses plunged into her and he couldn't wait anymore when she slowly bit his neck, breaths restrained and shallow- "Fuck", he grunted as his body trembled, pressing harder onto her and inside her.  
And an overcoming sensation, that exploded through his body like Andraste’s sacrificial flames and rushed and then gradually subsided, but he couldn't let her go, he couldn't stop embracing her slender, solid body as strong as he could, until the wind felt cold again, until the thought that they had lied to him, that the truth was that the Maker was right there right now, started to sound like blasphemy in his head. He found himself again as he loosened his grip around her and she slipped away.  
He realized then, panic and consciousness immediately biting the pit of his stomach:  
"You didn't...", he stammered.  
"Oh… it doesn't matter", she said, getting away from him, leaving him on the bare, cold bed and grabbing a towel nearby.  
"But... I could do-". His heart pounded wildly, embarrassment soon joining the chariot of all the unpleasant feelings that had come to ruin his moment.  
"It doesn't matter, it's normal", she said again, coming back to him and handing him the towel, "Don't worry, it's... new, so, you know... perhaps-".  
"Perhaps, next time? I mean-", he swallowed, his throat dry.  
"Yes, next time".  
There would be a next time. He exhaled, his muscles relaxed again, the chariot crushed under her smile.  
"All right...".  
"But, you could do something for me... you know, just stay here for a while... keep me company until I sleep?", she ventured.  
"I could", he softly said.  
He adjusted himself on the bed and she curled up against him.  
The sweat on their bodies turned cold and the rain was now pouring softly. The ceiling got clearer with every minute that passed and as he caressed her hair she quietly drifted off to sleep, mumbling nonsensical things which he answered with light chuckles. And after some time he could swear that he fell asleep too, even if just for a brief hour, even if he had to plead guilty to the Maker for what he had thought and asked him.


	19. The days that followed

###  The days that followed 

"Commander, you were saying something?"  
If Josephine had already noticed something, Riwan couldn't tell: the Antivan Ambassador surely knew how to bluff. Nonetheless, she kept her eyes locked on the map of Thedas in front of her, biting her lips in order not to laugh.  
The war council that day was perhaps the most excruciating and absurd experience of her life: forty minutes had already passed and they had both clumsily acted as if nothing had happened between them and though she could sense an air of expectancy and amusement rising from Leliana’s part, she thought they were doing great. She had managed to cover her blushing cheeks soon enough after she saw him standing behind the table, but now she couldn't stop grinning. The Commander, on the other hand, looked like a marble statue, staring into his reports, unable to raise his gaze for more than a few seconds, if not to meet her eyes and then hastily avert his gaze while blushing uncontrollably.  
"...Commander?"  
Cullen snapped back to reality. He was staring straight in front of him, fixed on Riwan's smirk and gleaming eyes for at least the tenth time that day, though for all that Josephine could see he could as well be looking at the door behind her.  
"Ah-Yes, I was- I was talking about our successful- I mean-"  
"Cullen, you are allowed to breathe, you know that, right?", Leliana said.  
"Yes, thank you", he growled, "Our scouting expedition in Haven's ruins was successful,  
Inquisitor."

"The Inquisitor has come back from the Exalted Plains."  
"So I've heard."  
"They saw her wearing an elven armour, you might want to ask her if-"  
"Ask what? Me? Ask the Inquisitor something?!"  
"Yes, you always complain that the clothes from your clan were more comfortable than these ones..."  
"And have the Commander slain me because I do not wear our official armour?"  
"You are a Dalish just like her, I'm sure she'll listen to you."  
"Of course, as if the Inquisitor meddled with us..."  
"I just wanted- Look! There she is!"  
The two soldiers stared at the figure walking briskly through the barracks, directed to the archers' field.  
"Man, the archers surely are lucky."  
"Pfff. I really don't understand you, she just looks... Plain. Totally normal."  
"Plain? How could you say that she is plain? Have you looked at yourself in the mirror... knife-ear?"  
"Oh, easy there, orlesian scum."  
"Even if she were plain, last night, when she returned with her party, Kaara told me that she stopped at The Herald's Rest and offered a round to everyone inside!"  
"We should ask Kaara to put on those Dalish robes. See if they fit."  
"Ha! I bet five silvers that she can't even put one of her thighs inside them!"  
They burst out laughing.  
"Soldiers! It is sparring time, not chatting time!"  
They froze, looked at each other as their faces gradually turned white. It was the Commander.  
He got near them with a look on his face resembling that of a wild beast ready to strike its prey.  
"Ten laps of the field. Now!"  
"Ser, with our armour on, Ser?"  
"Yes, with your armour on! Go!"  
He crossed his arms and looked at the two poor sods who started to clumsily run around the field, causing a stir among the other soldiers.  
"Can I leave them to you for a minute?", he asked lieutenant La'Nen.  
"Of course, Commander. I'll keep them in check."  
"Thank you."  
He jogged towards the archers' field, headache pounding accordingly to his paces.  
He stopped for a brief second and looked at her from behind: she had a leather thick skin ornated with Dalish motives and leather gauntlets, her arms tense and muscles flexed in pulling the bowstring. Her hair was growing so long that she had started carrying it in a high ponytail whenever she practised. She was so focused that she barely heard him coming.  
"Have you come to distract my soldiers, Inquisitor?", he said in a low voice, flanking her with  
crossed arms and looking in the distance towards the dummy she was aiming at.  
"Fenedhis!" she yelled, as she released the bowstring and sent the arrow inches higher than its  
intended destination.  
"Have _you_ come here to distract me?"  
She lowered her bow and looked at him. A smile immediately surfaced in her eyes and on the corners of her lips.  
"Perhaps...", he smirked in return.  
They stood awkwardly one beside the other. Many things that he wanted to say to her stirred inside his mind, but he felt not able at all to voice them.  
"You came back yesterday night and didn't even come to greet me..."  
"We stayed away for merely a week. Besides, if you stopped putting your soldiers guarding your tower and impeding me to enter..."  
He chuckled. "You're right... But you can- you can enter whenever you want. I mean-"  
She laughed, “I don’t believe you!”. Maker, he wanted to kiss her so badly.  
"You-you've finally found Dalish armour..."  
"Yes, the clan in the Dales was so kind as to giving several pieces of clothing to me. I paid them dearly. You should've seen Cassandra's look..."  
"I can imagine... It looks good on you."  
"I know", she teased him. Her ears looked even more pointed and long with her hair held back.  
"Stop it,” he said, averting his gaze from her smiling lips, though he couldn’t stop smiling himself, “will I- See you tonight?"  
"Yes, if you don't lock yourself up in your tower..."  
"I won't."  
"All right."  
"Goodbye then."  
"Goodbye."  
He stood there, unable to move. She moved her head questioningly, hair floating in the breeze, the smile still on her lips.  
"All right, I'll just- go"  
Her laughter rang behind him as he paced away.  
Maker, he felt so stupid.

"And then Dorian told me that if you actually touch it..."  
"Why would you touch it?", he angrily whispered back.  
"Just to... find out how it feels..."  
"What? Have you touched it?"  
"No, but Dorian did and he said-"  
"Oh sweet Maker..."  
"-he said... Why do you frown?!"  
"Nothing, go on...", he chuckled under his breath.  
They were standing in front of Skyhold's entrance, waiting for some Orlesian nobles that Josephine wanted them all to meet. They had both arrived early and Josephine was still instructing her scribes, a few paces behind them, into the proper manners of hospitality.  
"Stop smirking, Cullen."  
"Why, you are telling me the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard!"  
"Stop smirking, I can't concentrate! Then Dorian said that if you touch it and... ugh, do you want to kill me?"  
"What?"  
"Stop smirking, just- Put your face out!"  
"Put- what? What's wrong with my face?"  
"Absolutely nothing, that's the problem! Just- be serious, don't smirk."  
"I'm- confused..."  
"Good, be confused, do not make that smirk of yours, for the Creator's mercy..."  
"And what happens if I smirk...?". He raised a corner of his mouth.  
"Stop it!", she hissed. "Weren't you the one who wanted to keep it secret?"  
"Yes..."  
"If you don't stop it I'll kiss you in front of everyone!"

He saw her shooting a look behind her as she walked away from the war council. Her eyes caught his right before she bolted down the stairs, in the cellar.  
He frowned. What was she doing? He looked around him. Josephine and Leliana had stopped in the long corridor before the war room and were laughing. They would not notice. In a few quick steps he reached the stairs and went down as quietly as possible.  
He paced around and whispered: "Riwan?"  
The air was mossy and cold and his whisper echoed in the vault of the room.  
She appeared on the threshold of one of the sturdy, wooden doors, grabbed him by his arm and pulled him inside.  
It was the room where she stocked all the bottles found in her trips - strange collection, better not to question her about it. No sooner had he taken in his surroundings than she pulled him again, towards her, and started kissing him. He could do nothing but oblige her and he kissed her back, her perfume blending in the mossy one of the room and her mouth was warm and she started to ruffle his hair and to giggle as he kissed her neck.  
"Why...", he growled.  
"The fur of your mantel, it goes inside my nose!"  
He sighed, a little exasperated, but he couldn't bring himself to leave the warm slope of her neck. He continued to kiss her anyway, trying to shut her giggles up with his mouth.  
"It tickles!", she said through his lips.  
"You've already told me at least a dozen times!"  
"We're leaving in a few days... For Crestwood."  
"I know," he said, resting his forehead on hers. "Will you...write- to me, I mean..."  
"Yes, I will write to you."  
"Be careful. Hawke is-"  
"Don't worry about me. I can handle her."  
She cupped his face in her hands and kissed his scar.  
"Inquisitor, is that you?"  
A voice echoed in the cellar, barely a few steps away from them.  
He shot her a panicked glance.  
"Shit. I'll handle this" she whispered.  
She swiftly exited the room. He heard her greet one of the cooks and chat with him for a while, about vegetables and toothpicks.  
The sound of their footsteps gradually vanished in the distance.

"I'm moving my pawn over here..."  
He looked distractedly at the chessboard. Pawn beside his knight.  
"All right". He barely thought about his next move as he pushed forward one of his pawns.  
"Interesting move...". Dorian caressed his moustache and a satisfied smile appeared on his face as he said: "Then my pawn will eat yours."  
"What?" Cullen sighed in frustration, "Maker... how?"  
Dorian looked at him with narrowed eyes.  
"Commander, haven't you noticed that I've been cheating the whole game?"  
"I usually do..."  
"My pawn was three cells back, how could it even move over there?"  
"Dorian...", he passed a hand over his eyes, "Why are you even admitting to it?"  
"Come now, Commander. I know that the Inquisitor is standing barely a few meters away from us, but you could at least put some effort into one single game..."  
"What?!". Cullen alarmedly looked at the mage and then rapidly turned his head towards the garden, where he could see Riwan in the distance, talking with the herbalist and picking up flowers and herbs. She always smiled. At him, too.  
"It's all too obvious. Besides, you don't have to pretend while I'm around since I had already noticed it even before she told me-"  
"She told you?!"  
Dorian laughed. It was more amusing than he had expected. "Commander, you surely are naive! Of course she told me, what do you think us two talk about all day long?"  
"All-day long?". Cullen opened his eyes wide in discomfort, toying obliviously with a chess piece in his hand.  
"Yes. But, as I said, anyone with a little sense of observation could notice it anyway. You're both slacking off from your duties- Riwan is so behind with her reports that Josephine would have her head on a pole. You're always sneaking around and today you can barely keep your eyes off her. Don't worry though, I won't tell anyone about it... Just, oblige this bored friend of yours with a serious game of chess. I can even put in a good word for you if you behave."  
Cullen sighed and scratched the back of his neck.  
"What's the matter?", Dorian pressed on, "Aren't you happy?"  
"How many people know - it?". He couldn't even look at Dorian's smug face. He could feel his ears and cheeks getting warm with embarrassment.  
"I think that Cassandra is the only one who hasn’t figured it out yet... Ha, she will make a glorious show when she finally realizes-"  
"Oh, sweet Maker."  
"And again I must ask you: what is the matter, Cullen?"  
"It's just- that I'm worried..."  
"Worried? About what?" Dorian caressed his moustache again and studied him with steady eyes. He put his chess pieces back in their drawer as Cullen reorganized the chessboard.  
"About- many things.”  
"You shouldn't. She can take care of herself. And I'm always there, saving the day whenever she starts to panic on the battlefield."  
"That's- Thank you, Dorian". He finally looked at him, his earnest and clever gaze made him feel slightly better.  
"No, thank you. You're both gifting us all with amazing gossip. Now, shall we? A serious match, if you don't mind."

He lay in bed, his body trembling and his hands cold. She had left for Crestwood.  
He felt his mind drifting away, plunging deep into Kinloch Hold's chambers. He strained to resist it, to convince himself that he was all right, that he didn't need lyrium.  
"She's thinking about you", Cole's voice came from somewhere in his room.  
Yes, thinking about her... He visualized her eyes narrowing and shining when she smiled, her brown lips parting, the taste of her kisses, the taste of her skin, the carelessness and steadfastness of her voice, the way she walked, bare feet on cold stone...  
He realized that perhaps he could survive even that night.


	20. About Crestwood

### About Crestwood

‘ _How long has this poor man been hiding in here?_ ’  
The cave was humid and drops of icy water fell on their heads from its rocky ceiling. While Stroud talked, Riwan looked around her, noticing the poorly lit bonfire, a table made of boards with damp maps and papers on it, farther on, in the dark, a bedroll made of hay with a pile of covers on it. ‘ _How long has this poor man been hiding in here?_ ’, she thought to herself again, horror making her shiver.  
Even if they were exhausted - for it hadn’t been easy at all locating that secluded place, even with the map Hawke had given them -, covered in mud and hungry, they lingered there after the decision was taken - they would meet again at the Western Approach, to find out more about the disappearing Wardens and about Warden-Commander Clarel’s folly. But first of all, one thing had to be done: bring out the poor man from that damp and humid hole.  
“Will you not come to Skyhold first, to rest before our journey?”, Riwan asked.   
“I would not take advantage of-”  
“Nonsense”, Riwan cut him short, “Hawke, could you escort him back to Skyhold? We need to remain here for another few days.”  
“Of course, Inquisitor. I’ll see you there as soon as you come back- and Inquisitor...”  
“Yes?”  
“May I have a word with you?”  
Riwan followed Hawke outside of the cave and was surprised in seeing the mage so concerned.  
“Thank you for your help, Inquisitor. My brother is in the Wardens, as I have already told you, and Stroud is a dear friend of mine. If what he has discovered is true, about the blood ritual… I hope we will be able to stop it and then stop Corypheus next-”  
“I’m the one who should thank you for this lead. I’m sure that we will have all the answer as soon as we head to the Western Approach.”  
A tired smile wrinkled Hawke’s lips. “I used to be so optimistic too, once. It seems I’ve lost it on the way.”  
“Oh, I am not optimistic. I simply try to think about these things as little as possible, otherwise… Well, I’m sure you understand.”  
“I do”, the mage chuckled under her breath, “See you in Skyhold, Inquisitor.”  
Hawke seemed to hesitate for a moment, then Stroud reached her and patted her on her shoulder. Riwan watched them walking away in the distance.  
“Let’s hope they reach Skyhold safe and sound…”, Cassandra whispered beside her, as soon as their figures disappeared behind a thick veil of fog.

Deeply troubled by the news received concerning the Wardens, the Inquisitor and her party walked briskly through Crestwood's muddy countryside, fighting off the rain and the fog as best as they could with their heavy jackets and armours.  
As soon as Dorian understood that they would remain in that region longer than he had expected, he started complaining extensively about the weather and the South in general, giving Solas a break from his continuous critics on his looks - "Apostate hobo, yes, I should tell this one to Madame De Fer as soon as we go back. If we will ever go back from this swamp."  
Cassandra kept her mouth shut, as she usually did whenever someone complained about the weather or the discomforts of their journeys, and lead the way across the grass and the hills, occasionally grunting or grumbling under her breath.  
Solas was quiet enough, as he had already made clear what he thought about the Grey Wardens as soon as Stroud and Hawke had left them. He quarreled with Riwan on the matter for some time before giving in and speaking only with Dorian and Cassandra for the rest of the day.  
As for Riwan, the beauty of the place and of the nature around her couldn't shake off the nasty feeling that Stroud's words had given rise to within her. She started to think 'The trees are happy because it rains' more than she would have wanted to and soon those words became a mantra that kept her going on, through the undead, through the mud and the demons, through the red templars, while investigating on the source of the rift that ominously shone in Crestwood's lake.  
They spent the nights in Caer Bronach, which was comfortable enough - at least they had a solid roof on their head every night, that shielded them from the drizzle, and crackling fires that awaited them each evening as well as hot meals. Whenever their group set foot in the hold after their daily enterprises, their mood would immediately improve and they would surprisingly all get along quite well again.  
Another two days passed, during which their goal was made clear: they would have to drain the lake by finding the dam controls and thus gain access to the place where the rift was originated.  
The memories of Crestwood soon became confused in Riwan's head, a bundle of rain and chill, of longing to go back to Skyhold and rest under the heavy covers of her bed with Cullen, of fear as soon as they discovered the corpses in Old Crestwood and the old Dwarven Caves below it and eventually - of joy in seeing the sun again after they closed the rift. But above all, she would never forget Dorian's disgust in seeing her eat wild asparagus.  
It happened before they entered the Dwarven Ruins and after they got rid of plenty of demons and wraiths in Old Crestwood. Exhausted, they sat on some rocks beside the village to get some rest before facing the Caves. Having always strolled around keeping her head low against the rain and the wind, Riwan had noticed almost as soon as they had set foot in that region that plenty of asparagus grew in the wilderness - as well as berries and thistles. But asparagus - they weren’t so easy to find when she was with her clan, near Hoden, and she hadn’t eaten any since she had come to Ferelden and she longed to have a snack and wondered if she could pick up a full basket of them to bring back to Skyhold before they got rotten under all that rain.  
She looked around her and got up from the rock where she had been resting while the others kept on minding their own business, barely acknowledging her movements.  
She could see the tips of the asparagus sprout between some flowers and weeds and she deftly plucked the vegetable out of the humid earth.  
‘They look glorious!’, she thought. “Dorian, please, lend me your water bag for a second”, she said, returning to the others.  
“Here you go”. She washed away the earth with as little water as possible, in order not to deprive her companion of it, and then sat down again between them, chewing the crunchy tips of her loot and sighing.   
“Oh, do you want some?”, she said after a while, noticing Cassandra and Dorian looking towards her with strange looks on their faces.  
“No, thank you”, the Seeker said, raising one corner of her mouth in poorly hidden disgust.  
“What on earth are you doing, Lavellan? Have you gone mad?”, Dorian blurted out.  
“What?”, Riwan innocently said, the bouquet of half-eaten asparagus in her hand. Solas was sitting beside her and chuckled lightly but said nothing.  
“Are you really eating those things without cooking them?”, Dorian continued, “You have barely washed them!”. The mage’s eyes were wide in shock and he held a hand raised in front of him as if wanting to stop her.  
“What’s wrong with it? They taste good, have a bite, they’re asparagus!”, she said.  
“You are practically eating earth and roots! It’s disgusting, you savage elf!”, he exclaimed.  
Riwan laughed, “How on Thedas am I supposed to eat these things?”.  
“You don’t actually know it? How is it even possible! Has it never occurred to you that you can at least boil them in some water?”  
“No…”, Riwan replied, impassive.  
“Of course not! And would it be too much to hope that you know how to make a good truffle sauce? Or even a simple chickpea sauce? Or just to boil them and put them into rice? And what about peas, you can cook peas, right?”  
“I just don’t see how asparagus can upset you so much, Dorian”, Riwan said, biting the head of asparagus off with a challenging look and chewing loudly. This sorted the desired effect, as the mage fretted even more.  
“You are beyond any possibility to be saved, you wild thing!”   
“Ugh…”, Cassandra grunted, quite annoyed by all that fuss.  
In the end, they managed to seal Crestwood’s big bad rift, even after having eaten raw asparagus. Not that Dorian would ever let that offense to good taste go unpunished, as he complained all the way down Crestwood’s cave and out of it and all the way back to Skyhold about it.   
When they finally entered the castle and handed their mounts to Dennet and his assistant, they bumped into Cullen, who had been lingering around trying to make his presence look as casual as possible, but who had actually waited there for some time after having received a crow from Cassandra announcing their imminent return. Dorian barely looked at him and said: “Please, feed this poor girl with proper food whenever you have the possibility”. He patted him on the shoulder and left, an aura of gloriousness all over him even if he was covered in mud.   
“I-Uhm, what?”, Cullen only managed to say. Riwan, on the other hand, was laughing wildly and as the Commander watched her he felt the tight gripping sensation that had pestered him for all those days finally subsiding. She looked messy, her hair was everywhere, her brown cheeks were flushed and her eyes luminescent. Mud covered all of her armour too and she had put two flowers in what remained of her braid. She looked like a proud creature of the woods, dazzling with her own bright light, which had so little in common with the eerie green one that glowed from the mark on her left hand.  
“Andraste preserve me”, he murmured, as he tried to greet her in an as formal way as possible and departed with her towards the main fort under the inquiring eyes of Cassandra.


	21. Correspondence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yayyy! I can't believe that I'm actually posting it! I've been really busy and I thought I wouldn't have time to check it!  
> Thanks for reading!!

### Correspondence

From Riwan's journal

_Another day in the Western Approach. Hawke talks all the time. Stroud doesn't, since all of his Warden friends have gone mad. I'm starting to get worried. Discovered blood ritual and a certain Erimond freak._   
_Who managed to escape, by the way._

_Hawke and Varric chat all the time about a certain "broody" and "daisy" and "blondie" and so on. I'm not jealous. Dorian says I am, but I'm not.  
I'll have to ask Cullen about them._

_We are fighting darkspawn. Darkspawn. Darkspawn! I hate them, hate them, hate them!!! I hate this place!!! And we found Chantry landmarks... in the desert!!!  
Fenedhis._

_Correction: we are fighting venatori AND darkspawn._

_I want to go back to Skyhold._

⚊

_To Commander Cullen,_   
_We have tried to find an access to the northern part of the Western Approach, where the source of the darkspawn is probably located. Unfortunately, the way is not passable due to some gas exhalations that come from pits in the sand._   
_They seem to spring from the bottom of the earth itself. The air is scorching and I think the gas is highly toxic. We will need help from Skyhold after we have retrieved further information in order to orchestrate a building operation. We need to hold the Approach at all costs._   
_Hawke and Stroud will leave us in a while and will scout towards Adamant. For now, they had decided to rest at Griffon Wing Peak and give us whatever help we may need._   
_I agree, it is a shame that we let Erimond flee, but Stroud seems convinced that Adamant is the place where Corypheus is gathering his Warden army._   
_I hope everything is all right,_   
_Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast_

⚊

_Riwan,_   
_I'm worried about the darkspawn. I'm sure that Warden Stroud has already told you, but be careful, do not engage them in melee combat and do not come into contact with their blood for any reason. My only comfort is knowing that you're an archer and that hopefully you’ll stay out of their reach..._   
_I think I have an idea about who "broody" and "daisy" etc are. I will tell you when you come back. Just know that the only sane person who consorted with Hawke was Aveline Vallen, the current Captain of the guards in Kirkwall._   
_Don't worry about me, I'm fine. And yes, I will write back to my sister, sooner or later._   
_Cullen_

_PS: can I tell you that I miss you? Because I do._

⚊

_Dear Shalle,_   
_How are you? How is everything going with Marin? I hope she doesn't get in trouble. Running away during the night to reach her lover in Wycome... it just doesn't sound safe to do, in these times. How's the hunting this year? But most importantly, how is everyone dealing with Shante's illness?_   
_I'm all right. Last time I told you about Dirthavaren and my silly questions about Orawen to that clan… Well, this time we went to explore a desert in Orlais. But I’ve got nothing funny to say, it’s just a desert, full of hyenas and beasts of all sorts._   
_As for my new friends (yes, you're still my best friend, I haven't replaced you!), it's all a mess. The dwarf and the iron woman have nearly tore each others' heads off because of Hawke-_   
_Right!! I haven't told you about her! I've met her and I'm travelling with her right now! Perhaps I'd better write a letter dedicated to her, I'm running low on parchment right now. She is powerful and scary. Delivered bad news. Grey Wardens disappearing in Orlais. That's why we're on a mission together right now! Do you want an autograph?_   
_All my love,_   
_Riwan_

⚊

_Dear Ma,_  
 _Me and the builders went to a place called the Western Approach in Orlais. Tis far from home._  
 _If I go to Val Royaux I promise I will buy a souvenir. Anyway, I'm gla they put me with the builders. We had another job to do for the Inquisitor herself, they told us._  
 _We built platforms and blowholes on sulfur pits. I know it doesn't sound like much, but it is very important work ma. The Inquisitor needs to pass and we build a road for her. I saw her in Skyhold twice and even if she is an elf she seems civil and nice. Perhaps we should stop thinkin bad about those in the alienage. She really is the Herald of Andraste,  
ma. Anyway, here you have no idea the amazing work the dwarves do. They are the best builders, they would shame pa! They crush the rocks in half the time of us humans.  
And they drink twice as much. They made a castle with the bottles of beer when they finished._   
_See that it was worth it to pay all that mony for my writing course? Now we can keep in touch._   
_Love to you and pa,_  
 _Jamie_

⚊

_Dear Mia,_   
_I'm in Skyhold. I'm fine, don't worry about me._   
_Love,_   
_Cullen_

⚊

From Riwan's journal

_Ok, I got up tonight 'cause I couldn't sleep. I slept better in Crestwood surrounded by demons. Anyway, it was those damned eyes again. I dreamt about them. They were all yellow and they said something, but I don't know what. Should I tell Cullen? But he already has nightmares of his own, he's already worrying too much about me._

_Annnd here we go again, chasing darkspawn. AND Venatori._

⚊

_To the Inquisitor,_   
_Some valued tomes from the Circle of Magi have been stolen and gone missing. Perhaps you could investigate during your next travels?_   
_I'll write the titles at the end of this letter._   
_By the way, I'm sure Sera has stolen one of my bras. Could you tell her to stop it? Perhaps she will listen to you._   
_Kisses,_   
_Vivienne_

⚊

_Dear Bull,_   
_You have no idea of what we found at the start of the newly built road in the Western Approach!_   
_A castle made of bottles of beer! It was at least six feet tall. I wish you were here to see this._   
_Sera, if you're reading this: yes, we can try and do it in Skyhold too._   
_Chaste Love,_   
_Riwan ___

____

⚊

_Dear Cassandra,_   
_My soldiers have found signs of the Seekers in Ferelden._   
_I'll leave a copy of the report in your room._   
_See you soon,_   
_Cullen_

⚊

_Dear Lelie and Josie,_   
_I'm writing to tell you that for now there is no sign of the venatori enchanter you've asked me to find. Even our scouts haven't found him. If he is dead in a pit, I don't know yet, but it would be better for us. If not, I guess he's on the other side of the sulphur pits and we'll catch him soon enough thanks to the new road._   
_I'll keep you updated._   
_See you soon (hopefully),_   
_Riwan_

⚊

_To the Inquisitor,_   
_Ambassador Montylliet wishes me to remind you that you may not address us in such a familiar way in official correspondence. Since every letter is afterwards catalogued by the Ambassador's scribes to keep a record of our enterprises, it would be better to resort to more official language._   
_Thank you for the update anyway, Inquisitor._   
_Safe travels,_   
_Nightingale_

⚊

_Dear Cullen,_   
_I haven't drank darkspawn blood - yet._   
_I'm joking, don't worry about me. I just rummaged in their belongings when it was safe enough to get near them. I covered my mouth, just in case. I found out that some of them carry satchels with gold inside! Why is that?_   
_Anyway, something happened last night that will not exactly please you. I hope you'll understand that it wasn't entirely my fault... We'll talk about it when I come back._   
_Riwan_

_PS: if you say it I will answer that I miss you too. And that I think about you every day. Too much?_

⚊

_Cullen,_   
_I discovered yesterday night about you and the Inquisitor. She didn't spontaneously tell me about it, you can rest assured. But I'm really offended by both of you._   
_I found her reading a book on lyrium effects which she bought Maker knows where. It took me little effort to know why she was so deeply concerned._   
_Why haven't you told me? Aren't we friends?_

_I'm afraid that Hawke was present throughout my discussion with the Inquisitor and that she heard everything that has been said... I'm sorry._   
_Cassandra_

Attached to Cassandra's letter 

_CURLY,_   
_I've got you, I knew that Varric was right, I knew it since our reunion, so you too have a heart after all! You showed few signs of it in Kirkwall. You're probably asking yourself how I of all people discovered you._   
_Well, you'll have to live without knowing it._   
_I can't wait to see you back in Skyhold._   
_Signed: THE CHAMPION OF KIRKWALL_

⚊

_Boss,_   
_Krem and I have Tevinter booze waiting for you._   
_Safe travels._

⚊

From Riwan's journal

_We are going back to Skyhold again. I'm glad._   
_Hawke and Stroud left two days ago for Adamant, just to check if their hunch is correct._   
_I closed a lot of rifts and killed a few spiders, though. It's not as if I don't do anything._

_Dorian said something strange about Bull. He said they are... similar? He wouldn't explain himself further. I'll have to keep an eye on them._

_I'm pretty sure Cassandra hates me for not having told her that Cullen and I are together._   
_Should I have told her? I should have... When she discovered that Dorian and Varric already knew she bolted off to her tent and didn't speak to me until we were on the saddle again. I'll have to find a way to apologize..._

⚊

_To Commander Cullen,_   
_We are coming back to Skyhold. We think we have found the source of the darkspawn, but we may need help from your soldiers to be absolutely certain about it. We cannot afford to waste the poor resources that our men have in Griffon's keep._   
_We will try to make a more detailed sketch of the area this time. Our draftsman is to blame though, not us._   
_See you in a few days,_   
_Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast_

⚊

_Dear Riwan,_  
 _I hope this letter reaches you soon enough. Marin has gone missing. The Keeper is furious. I've never seen her so worried since Hoden. Not to talk about your mother... she looks like a crazy templar hunting down mages._  
 _I pretty much hope that I'm still your best friend._  
 _Hunting is going not so well... The rifts make the animals go crazy. The war drives them away. We are discussing about trading with humans again. The chief started crying when they proposed it. He still hasn't forgotten._  
 _I think you should ask for Orawen wherever you go, do not feel ashamed._  
 _I envy your freedom, Riri. The future seems dark here._  
 _Sorry for the gloomy mood, but I can't help but be worried for Marin. I'm departing with the search parties in an hour._  
 _I'll keep you updated,_  
 _Smooch smooch,_  
 _Shalle._  
 _PS: PLEASE SEND FIFTEEN HAWKE'S AUTOGRAPHS THANKS!!!!_  
 _PPS: what about that ex templar you told me about? Still haughty? Still... pretty? You know that I carry no prejudices!_  
(A drawing of a smirking face)

⚊

_Dear Cassandra,_   
_I'm sorry if I have offended you, it was not my wish._   
_I'll do my best to talk to you about it when you come back if I have time._   
_Cullen_

_PS: couldn't you two prevent Hawke from overhearing you? You know that she'll never leave me alone now!_

⚊

_Hey, you comin back?_   
_I have the greatest prank in mind._   
_-it's Sera and if you didn't already understand it then it means you're dumb-_

⚊

_Riwan,_   
_It's not too much._   
_See you in a few days,_   
_C._


	22. The battle of Adamant - part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everybody! Sorry for the long time it took me to publish this chapter, I've been working away from home in the last weeks and I wanted to be back and snug in my own sofa before revising it and posting it.  
> Anyway, here it is! Have a nice beginning of October!

## The battle of Adamant - part 1 

Nothing had prepared her for what she saw that day. Not even the full two weeks of frenzy battle-preparation had been enough. They held endless war councils, the advisors had little time even to breathe. It was vital that they strike Adamant, and soon, as there was no time to elaborate a refined battle technique or to wait for other forces to join them. Josephine pulled her strings and managed to convince some orlesian nobles to lend the Inquisition trebuchets for their assault; Leliana unleashed her agents who sent back maps and information concerning the Warden’s fortress and situation; Cullen started special training for his troops and spent his remaining time studying all of Leliana’s and Josephine’s material with his lieutenants, trying to elaborate a tactic that could bring the Inquisitor and a small party inside the fortress. The others trained every day, trying to balance the necessary physical preparation essential to withstand a probable heavy battle with the much-needed rest and focus that they would require that day. When she wasn’t involved in war councils or in training, Riwan kept to her room, studying the every day more detailed floor-plan of Adamant as she had been instructed to and reflecting on who would be best to bring with her inside the fortress. She was beginning to become each day more agitated, as the advisors came and went from her room ever more frequently to bring her news and keep her up to date on the development of the situation. Even Cullen, who had barely learned to cope with Riwan popping up completely unexpectedly into his quarters, was now coming and going freely from her bedroom without any ceremony needed. She felt something tug at her heart every time she saw him: everything that had happened between them had been put aside. Time to work had come and the Commander was under a huge amount of it and suddenly it seemed like she was seeing him again for the first time, cloaked with the aura that had permeated him during the first days that Riwan had spent in the Inquisition: he was grave and concentrated, tall and broad, his steely gaze focused into matters that did not concern her. She was intimidated and somehow proud, but couldn’t push away the worrying feeling that the incoming battle would turn in a real hazard for them all.  
The bulk of the army had already departed, commanded by the most skilled lieutenants, while the Commander would be the last one to leave, accompanied by a smaller bulk of heavy armoured soldiers and Riwan’s party. She had been asked to attend to the departure of the first bulk and she was left speechless: how many people were down there, marching in Silverite and steel? How many soldiers ready to serve their cause? While they marched and paraded out of Skyhold, Cullen had stayed at her side with Cassandra and the other advisors. He had explained to her in detail how they had divided the army into blocks of men guided by block-commanders and how each line of men had a line head. Trumpeters, drummers and messengers were departing with them and a banner was held for each block. There were archers too and they would use the cavalry only if strictly needed. As Commander and general of the army, he would stay in the rear-block, surveilling the battlefield and striking when needed, as their developed tactics required. When the army disappeared behind the white mountains, Riwan tried to gulp, only to find that she had no saliva in her mouth and that her eyes were filled with tears instead.  
“Very well, then. Are you sure you don’t need to know anything else? Do you remember that-”.  
“That I cannot stop and that whatever I see and whatever happens I will need to stick to the battering ram? Yes, I do.”  
Cullen was pacing Riwan’s room the day before their departure, going over the war tactics with her for the umpteenth time and making sure that she remembered Adamant planimetry and that she had finally decided who to bring with her inside the fortress. The others would remain with him or at the sides of the battlefield, covering the soldier units as best suited.  
“Good”, he said. He seemed ready to leave her when he returned on his paces and said: “You will not be allowed to exit cover until you are safely inside the fortress, do you understand?”  
“It’s the fifteenth time you’ve told me, I think I’ve quite understood it.”  
“Good. Soldiers will be there to protect you and the others. Once inside, it’s up to you. The priority is-”.  
“Reach Clarel, I know. Don’t worry, Cullen. I have made my homework.”  
He sighed and passed a hand on his tired face. “All right. I will bother you no more. This time will not be like Haven, you’ll have your back covered. We will all be there to protect you.”  
Riwan got up from her desk and tentatively got closer to him. “I’ll be fine”, she said, trying to sound confident in herself.  
“I’ve seen many soldiers remain so shocked by their first battle experience that they were struck down on the spot because they couldn’t react. You must be prepared” he said, his stern expression unchanged, his gaze wandering nervously around her.  
“You’ve done everything you can. I’ve been picturing in my head the worst possible scenarios in the last couple of days. I’m ready” she said. The truth was that she was totally terrified, but there was no point in saying it now. She tried to master a smile.  
“Good. I’ll leave you then. We’ll be departing tomorrow morning, it’s best that you rest as long as you can, it will be a long march”. He smiled and quietly turned and started to descend the stairs that led to the main hall. Riwan remained there, confused and tired. He went away and shut the door. ‘Fenedhis’, she thought. She let herself fall on the couch and cupped her face between her hands, sighing. Yes, saying that she was terrified was an understatement.  
She jumped on her seat, hearing the door being opened brusquely and footsteps running up the stairs. He stopped for a second looking at her, then swiftly kneeled in front of her and said softly: “I’m sorry, I- I forgot something”. He took her face between his gloved hands and hurriedly kissed her. He rested his forehead on hers for a moment, then said: “See you tomorrow”.  
She chuckled and managed to reply a feeble response, while he got up smirking and disappeared again. 

It was when the battle started that she understood that nothing of what they had carefully planned had been enough to prepare her. Walls were crumbling at the fierce strikes of the trebuchets. Men were yelling and shouting in rage, in pain, in fear. Demons poured down the ramparts, screeching. There was blood everywhere. She managed to stand still by keeping her right hand on the battering ram. She tried to focus on the earth beneath her feet, on the helmets of the soldiers that surrounded her, on their shields. Cole’s hand lingered for a moment over hers, soothing her terror. She dreaded the noise of the rocks thrown on Adamant’s walls by the trebuchets. The more they went on the more their road was covered in slime and mud and patches of dark red blood. She couldn’t even stare down at her feet anymore and focused on the men in front of her instead. Only once the battering ram risked being stopped by their enemy, but Dorian, going against all recommendations, had sprung away from their group and immobilized with a single bolt two despair demons. “Go back inside!”, she heard someone yell and after a while the mage rematerialized beside the ram. Adamant’s lateral wooden doors, with griffons carved upon it, were destroyed after its powerful blows. The soldiers who had held the siege equipment laid it down, while those surrounding them took care of the Wardens behind the door to give them a free entrance.  
It was time to come out of cover. Riwan breathed in deeply and nodded towards the soldiers and her party: Bull, Cole and Dorian came forward. “At your word, Boss”, Bull said.  
“Inquisitor!”, she heard a voice behind her. Cullen ran towards her accompanied by some soldiers. He looked tall and scary: she had always thought that the attire that he carried around Skyhold every day was his heavy armour. She was wrong: he was now clad in metal, he had discarded is pauldrons and had only a red vest that covered his back, the eye and sword of the Inquisition on it. A great red crest was attached to his helm and when he lifted its visor she distinctly saw drops of sweat running on his face. “Inquisitor, you have your way in. We’ll keep the main host of demons occupied for as long as we can!”  
“I’ll be fine”, she automatically responded, “Just keep the men safe”, she added, a silent plea in her words.  
“We’ll do what we have to, Inquisitor”, he said, “Warden Stroud will guard your back. Hawke is with the soldiers on the battlements, but we may need your help there. Our men on the ladders can’t get a foothold” he yelled, to overcome the noise and screams. “If you can clear the enemies on the battlements we’ll cover your advance!”. And with that, he bolted away, followed suit by his soldiers.  
Then, it was all a blur. Stroud helped her moving through the fort, while she finally understood why her advisors had forced her to study the planimetry of the building in such detail. Whenever fear overcame her, her memory assisted her. A lump had formed in her throat for each Warden killed who refused to surrender. She tried to spare as many as she could: “Strike them only if they strike first!”, she had yelled, like crazy. Stroud had looked towards her, a look that expressed gratitude. They reached Hawke, staircase after staircase, and fire and earth were added to lightning bolt and necromancy. The soldiers on the ramparts welcomed their sight with screams of relief, some died in front of them, while Riwan despaired to act as quickly as she could. Three rifts were closed on the battlements and were secured, without their party having reported any major injury. A supply cache had been tossed beneath an arch. ‘Mythal’enaste’, she thought, as they replenished their satchels of potions and bombs. Her muscles were starting to get sore, she was doubting herself. She took a regenerative potion with trembling hands and swallowed it in a few gulps. On they went until they reached the main courtyard.  
There was Warden-Commander Clarel, Erimond standing beside her, and a Warden was slain before they could do anything to stop them and blood spilled from the man’s throat as he fell to the ground. Riwan felt sick but raised her arms and shouted - they did not move, blank faces looked at her while she talked about Clarel’s deception and Erimond’s plan.  
Just as her hope was withering Stroud intervened and all the Wardens looked at him, their previous teacher and comrade, their faces alight in recognition and understanding. “Your Tevinter ally is binding the mages to Corypheus!”, he yelled.  
Riwan could see doubt slithering through the Warden’s ranks, reaching Clarel, who faltered when the Warden mages raised their voices in protest against the ritual. It wasn’t enough. Erimond commanded them to go forth. And then - a fissure in the veil opened at Erimond’s command, a nervous shock ran through Riwan’s arm. She gasped and clenched her fist. And the dragon appeared.  
“My master sends this as a gift for you, Inquisitor!”, Erimond yelled. Red blasts of energy rained upon them from the gaping maws of the dragon and they threw themselves to the ground and demons started to pour out of the rift. Riwan embraced her bow, her knees aching, and started to aim towards the creatures, feeling blind for all the clarity with which she saw them and almost deaf for the intolerable noise they emitted. And then Erimond shouted something, his voice reaching her keen ears, and she saw Clarel hitting the dragon with a lightning bolt. And then she was gone, Erimond was fleeing and the Warden-Commander chased after him. Hope sprouted in her chest.  
“We must follow!”, she shouted to her party, leaping away from the claws of a gigantic proud demon.  
“I’m a little busy right now!”, she heard Hawke yell back, somewhere from the battlefield. Riwan even managed to grin.  
How long did it take them to take the demons down? Some Wardens joined them in the fight. Bor’assan was everything she could think of. And when she saw with a quick glance that only a few shadows remained, she grabbed one of the mages by his shoulder, looked at him fiercely in his scared eyes and told him: “I’ll leave them to you. Will you do it?”  
“Yes. Yes, Inquisitor”, he whispered.  
“Let’s go!”, she shouted. At once, Bull, Cole, Dorian, Hawke and Stroud darted behind her, up the stairs, on the ramparts, through halls and corridors, the shadows of Erimond and Clarel in front of them, the roars of the dragon above them. “Where have they gone?”, she wailed. Cole popped up beside her: “There, the stairs on the left.”  
They reached them on the nearly collapsed bridge that stood between Adamant’s main building and its quarters. They were all panting with fatigue but they started to walk cautiously towards their target. Clarel was striking Erimond with no mercy, shielding herself with fury against his fireballs. “You destroyed the Grey Wardens!”, she cried and struck him down with a violent bolt. They could barely hear what Erimond said, he laughed wildly, like a dog with rabies, as she hit him again with another spell and left him smoldering on the floor. The Warden raised her staff once more, Riwan’s eyes darted from it to the emissary of Corypheus who still lay inert on the ground and - a violent shake made them stagger and fall. The dragon had landed in front of them and it snapped its jaws close around Clarel. Riwan shrieked in horror while the beast shook violently its head, yanking the Warden’s body from one side to the other, its terrific smell piercing her nostrils as it had in Haven. It flew above them, sprinting in the sky with a thrust of its filthy hind-legs, and threw Clarel on the ground in front of them. Riwan took a few unconscious steps towards her, towards the bridge’s hem, towards Erimond’s silhouette. But the dragon hadn’t finished and landed behind her, blocking their way down to the fortress, to safety, making the bridge shake and its pavement tremble. It roared and invested them with its scorching breath, making its way towards them with its heavy paces. Riwan took another few steps backward and saw Bull raising desperately his axe, Dorian’s staff shining with purple energy, Cole’s daggers lighting the boy’s face with an eerie white light and Hawke and Stroud too raised their weapons against the beast. Then, in a breath, in a lightning bolt, Clarel jerked her arm upwards and hit the dragon’s belly above her with a thunderous blast. The dragon was struck to the ground and as its body collapsed, Riwan felt the bridge beneath her shake and cracks opening up in the pavement. She leaped sideways, hugging desperately the merlons as the dragon slipped down the collapsing bridge with tremendous screams, its huge body pushing theirs down with it. She opened her eyes again and everything was falling apart, she turned and saw a hand grasping on the bridge’s hem. Stroud’s hand. While the pavement cracked and wailed she reached for him and Bull too and helped him standing up again and then they ran. But not fast enough. The floor gave in to the cracks, rocks and boulders falling in the pit below them. She felt her feet lean onto thin air, her heart sinking, and she fell into the abyss. As quick as a bird’s heartbeat and as slow as the sun that paced the sky, images of her life ran through her head. The woods in Hoden, the shadows of her clan, her mother’s scarred face and her sister’s one, never forgotten. She saw her advisors’ smiles in the blink of an eye and heard her companions’ laughter. She saw Cullen’s smirk that made her glad to be alive and she felt a tear leaving her cheek and saw it flutter in the sick sky above her, shining like a star. ‘It isn’t the first time this has happened to me, Mythal…’, she thought. And then, feeling like someone had awakened her, not knowing what and why she was doing it, she thrust her left hand towards the dark below and was engulfed in green light.


	23. The battle of Adamant - part 2

### The battle of Adamant - part 2 

Cullen was standing with his soldiers at the back of the battlefield: he searched with a trained gaze the banners of each block, controlled that the position they were holding wasn’t pushed back by the enemies, kept the messengers and the drummers at his side, ready to deliver any change of tactic. When the dragon had appeared, both the Inquisition forces and the Warden’s ones had stopped fighting for a second or two. As he saw some soldiers desperately throw themselves on the ground at the sight of the beast, he noticed with stupor that even the hostile Wardens were surprised by that sudden appearance. He gritted his teeth: the dragon was no good news. He saw it plunge and stalk the roofs of Adamant. Was it a sign that Riwan had reached Erimond and Clarel? That clearly must be it. He tried to come up with any ideas that might help those inside the fortress, but until the field outside was secured they couldn’t spare too many men.   
He hastily summoned a messenger. “La’nen block proceed in Adamant. Deliver it to block-commander La’nen on Rylen’s side. She’s the one with the green banner. Quick!”, he ordered. The boy bolted away followed by two armed scouts.   
Rylen’s side of the battlefield seemed more stable than Lysette’s one and it could possibly spare an entire block. After a few minutes, though, something changed. The demons that until that moment had been killed in large numbers started to pour down Adamant walls. There was no sign of the dragon anymore, he could just make out its distant cries. It took him a few seconds to decide.   
“Men, with me!”, he shouted. They started running through the battlefield. Lysette’s block was giving in, engulfed by demons. They started making their way through the battling soldiers, trying to reach the front lines as soon as possible and as dangerous as it was. They approached the rear of the army, only to be surrounded by wraiths. Their number was such that they were forced to stop their run, raise their shields and cover each other’s backs. Cullen deflected their blows, their spits of green energy, and shoved his blade into their airy body, making them disappear. Suddenly, his sword caught fire. He inhaled sharply and fiercely looked around: Madame De Fer was standing tall on a boulder, attracting the demons’ attention towards herself. She gave the Commander a bold stare, then conjured a fire wall out of thin air. The smouldering mass of flames moved forward on the battlefield at her command and burnt all the wraiths to death. Cullen mentally thanked her as they started moving forward again. He reached the first banner: “Avan, we’re here. Hold the ground!”, he shouted. The block-commander looked at him in shock for a second. “Yes, Commander!”, he yelled, with renewed vigor. “Focus on the shades and the wraiths, we’ll take the big ones!”, Cullen ordered.  
And on he went, rallying every man whose name he could remember, in order not to let them lose their faith and their hope, brandishing his sword in front of him and his shield too, as the templars had taught him, and he craved for one moment the feeling of strength and power that only lyrium could give him. When they finally reached Lysette the ground was covered in a smudge of earth, ashes and blood.   
“Commander!” she cried. She ran towards him, shielding herself from blasts of ice dropped from the sky by despair demons. “They’re too many…”  
They had to shout to overcome the screams and the blasts, kneeling on the ground covered with corpses, protecting themselves with their shields held up.   
“Focus on the left side of the field. I’ll cover the right one!”  
“Yes, Commander!”  
Orders were shouted across the battlefield, trumpeters played the tune which signaled that new dispositions were coming, helmed faces turned to the sky for a moment: that part of the ground could still be held. “For the Inquisition!”, he cried and his soldiers answered. ‘Just give her enough time to end this madness.’  
After a few minutes of ruthless fight, the message reached him. The explanation as to why the demons had poured out of Adamant like water out of a dam. An armed scout, his face blackened by the smoke, reached him.   
“Commander!”, he cried. Cullen didn’t answer, a terror demon was in front of him. He shielded himself from its claws and delivered a mighty blow that cut one of his arms. One of his soldiers reached him: “I’ll cover you, Commander!”, he yelled.   
Cullen moved back a few steps, his eyes focusing on the demon, not looking at the scout. “What is it?”, he barked in anger, for no fool would dare to do such a thing, venture to the front lines to deliver a message without any official authorization.  
“The Inquisitor Commander”. The tremor in the scout’s voice made his heart skip a beat. “She is gone!”  
He froze in place. For one solid second, he could not move, his mouth turned dry and he felt as if for the first time the weight of the armour on his shoulders. The feeling was gone as soon as it had come, he had learnt through the years how to barricade his emotions in a cage of steel, for losing focus in battle could cost him more than his own life.   
“What”, he simply said, his voice granitic, he said it without betraying any emotions.  
“Some saw them fall in the precipice, Ser! Some say she fell inside a rift! She is gone!”  
Cullen still didn’t look at him. “Don’t you dare tell anybody about it. Only the lieutenants and I shall know it”. He bolted forward towards his men. A pride demon was on the farthest side of the field. He charged at its side, not thinking anymore, concentrating only on the here and now.   
‘Secure the battlefield’, was all he could think of. ‘Give her time. Another hour. We can hold for just another hour’, but the scout’s voice continued to repeat inside his head: ‘She is gone!’  
He didn’t know for how long he carried on like that. As soon as the situation was under control again, he made his soldiers raise his banner and they marched through the battlefield towards the rear again. One lost and a few injured. He had injured himself as well. ‘Reckless’, he thought angrily.   
As soon as he returned to his post a messenger reported to him: “The Inquisitor -”  
“Come here”, he said. He lifted his visor and isolated himself a few paces away from his soldiers. “Go on”, he commanded.  
“Sir, she has gone through a rift. She has vanished. Demons continue to pour out of the big rift inside the courtyard. The block you sent is aided by the Wardens who have surrendered, but they don’t know for how long they can stand.”  
“Very well”, he said. The steel inside him was growing heavier with every passing second. No water could soothe his dry mouth. “Do Rylen, Zyn, Baren and Pasteur know?”  
“I think the message must have reached them.”  
“All right”, he said. For a few seconds, he felt at a loss on what to do. He scrutinized the battlefield. “Send two lines inside Adamant. From…”, he struggled to remember the name. “From Arden’s block.”  
“On Lysette Baren’s side, yessir”. The boy had studied his deployments well.  
“Come back to me in twenty minutes, can you do it?”, Cullen asked.   
“Yessir.”  
“Are you sure?”  
“I’ve got two soldiers with me, one of us will report to you in twenty minutes.”  
“Go”, Cullen dismissed him. The boy bolted away.   
He returned to his men: “Let’s stay near the core of the two blocks. The party inside Adamant has been delayed by the dragon. They need help inside, we must keep our ground outside.”  
They marched and steadied themselves in front of Adamant’s walls, shields high in front of whatever the rift would throw at them. In seeing the red crest of the Commander and his block, the soldiers cheered. Bitterness grew inside him like venom in hearing their cries.   
The demons arrived, not as many as before, but still, they looked like a contorted waterfall of forms from under the broken walls of Adamant. He didn’t know how much time passed. The sky was deep grey with the smoke of the fires and of destruction. It had started to drizzle. Sometimes he thought he could recognize Madame De Fer or Solas’ spells. He even crossed paths with Sera, who was laughing like a mad elf and throwing jars full of bees around her. How long before the news spread and they all lose hope? How long before they noticed that something was wrong?   
He averted his eyes from each gaze that reached his. Whatever had hit him in the exact point of joining of his left vambrace had hit him good. He felt the pain become ache as he shielded himself yet another time. A terror crept behind him and made him lose his balance, but his soldiers were soon on it. He got up and moved onto another demon, who was assaulting a lone man. There were rage demons, their fire crossed the battlefield and was countered with shields and ice. Screams erupted from those who were hit, unbearable noises that he had learnt to shut down. The possessed Wardens were almost all dead or had stopped fighting. Those who had surrendered tried to fight with them or had regrouped as far as they could from the battlefield. He slew more demons than he could count. And just when it seemed that the demons had stopped their onslaught, they heard a cry coming from inside the fortress.  
It was loud and followed by a terrible sound, as of a blast or an explosion.  
He steadied his guard.   
“Men! Close ranks!”, he yelled.  
The order resounded all around him as it was repeated from line to line and each soldier who carried a shield placed it in front of him, forming an iron wall.   
The air grew still. Smoke and fog swirled in the sky. Only those who still faced demons continued to move. Soon everyone awaited, listening. Nothing happened. The last demons were taken down and still no sign from Adamant.   
Then the sound of a horn pierced the thick air, he could feel it breaching through it, tearing apart the wall of silence, agony and drizzle before them.   
The battle was over. He dared not move. His heart of steel seemed not to beat. Quietly the soldiers around him loosened their muscles. Then some from the back started to clap. Voices upon voices started to cheer, to chant. He was still staring at the wall in front of him when he heard the soldiers from his block telling him something. “We made it, Commander!”  
He woke up from his stupor and crossed quietly the battlefield, while all around him men where chanting and crying, cheering him, as a call grew louder and louder: “Inquisitor!”, they were all singing. Soldiers bowed to him, while those superior in rank saluted him and tried to bring back discipline. They awaited his orders. Soon he was back to his post on the rear of the battlefield and messengers and scouts ran towards him in numbers. He started to give orders, to march from one lieutenant to another, to do everything that was expected from him in the aftermath of a victorious battle. Then, he took off his helm and looked at the spectacle in front of him. A wasteland of corpses and smoke, of blood and dirt. What did it all mean?  
He felt nothing. He was hollow inside. The steel had covered all his insides, he felt a man no more. He had to reach Adamant’s courtyard to adjourn with Cassandra and the lieutenant inside since no messenger was reaching him. He could not wait. He walked towards the doors which had been crushed by the battering ram. He saw one of his block-commanders there, discussing with a Warden. What was his name…?   
“Kobold.”  
“Yessir!”, the dwarf immediately stood at attention.  
“Are you needed here?”  
“Uhm… Karmer could do my job, Sir.”  
“Good. Call Karmer and come with me.”   
As soon as Kobold reached him he made his way through Adamant. They passed through passageways covered in debris, Inquisition soldiers were scattered here and there, some injured, some dead, some were escorting the surrendering Wardens outside. What bargain had they taken with them? He reached a walkway that led to the courtyard, took no more than a few steps and suddenly saw Cassandra running towards him. She saw him from afar, raised a hand, signaling to wait for her, and sprinted in his direction. The Seeker had her short hair glued to her sweaty face, her helm under her arm, and was panting hard. Still, a smile was on her lips and as soon as he noticed it he felt anger rising within him.   
“Cullen!”, she exclaimed. “I was looking for you, did the messengers reach you?”  
“Yes”, he simply said. A moment passed where he sternly looked at her, while her smile changed into surprise.  
“Cullen, she’s alive”, she said quickly. “She’s alive”, she repeated, grabbing his shoulders with her hands.  
He swallowed with difficulty, feeling his throat on fire. “Is she…?”  
“The healers have taken her, come with me, I’ll tell you everything. Soldier, go into the main courtyard, search for lieutenant Zyn and await his orders”, Cassandra said. 

Oh, seeing again her face - someone else would have said that it was a contracted mask of terror, that her eyes looked like those of a wild beast before the arrow reached it, that her hair was tangled like the thorns that pierce you amidst the grass, that he could not march towards her tent like his life depended upon it. But he did march, it was the first thing he did, and he held her close until she went away.


	24. Return

### Return

_Managing the remaining Wardens took us more time than expected. I have also been delayed by my injury. Nothing serious. I'm on my way back now. Expect me in four days. I will be there in the late afternoon if the trip goes as intended._   
_C._

She carried the letter in her pocket: she had folded and unfolded it so many times that it was now creased and crumpled, the paper menacing to give in to her continuous handling it. Those ten days she had passed waiting for him to come back from Adamant had been excruciating. She knew not why: he was fine, she had survived and if she didn't count the unbearable sense of guilt that tormented her day and night for having left Stroud behind, everything had gone well enough.  
Still, she had paced languidly through Skyhold's halls almost every day, or crouched in Dorian's abode in the library, surrounded by books and no one else except for her friend. Josephine and Leliana, submerged by an insane amount of work in the aftermath of the battle, had granted her only a few days rest, after which they had instructed Cora to wake her up each morning at 7.30. This other torture, added to her sense of guilt and her poor sleep, made Riwan even sulkier - her bad mood was only slightly mitigated by the new habit that the Spymaster and the Ambassador had developed to sustain the long working hours: tea and biscuits were served at every meeting, occasionally even pastries and coffee.  
Not even Varric and Cassandra's incessant bickering over the latter's literary tastes had managed to completely restore her: the uneasiness left in her by wandering the Fade had left Cole nearly untouched, while Dorian, Bull and herself had only recently started to speak about it.   
And it hadn't been the big revelation about Divine Justinia and her not being the Herald of Andraste that had shaken her. No, she didn't care a bit about their Andraste and their shock in the news, as troubling as regaining her memories of the Conclave had been. It was what the Nightmare had shown her, what she had seen there that had left her hollow and scared. Not even training could distract her from what she had witnessed and heard because her body was so sore from the battle that she couldn't bear to handle the bow. She laid motionless on her bed while Cora massaged her arms and her back and she thought that she had never felt more tired before. And she thought all the thoughts that tormented her, about elves and humans, about templars and mages, about good and bad, and back there, in the recesses of her mind, about Corypheus, always shut out from every waking reasoning - everything pestered her and made her nervous.  
But fortunately, even if slowly and dully, each day passed to make way to another one, until the day before his arrival came. She spent it in anxious unrest, counting every hour, nearly expecting a crow to deliver her the sad news that he would be delayed again. Josephine and Leliana had started to openly laugh at her, as it had been nearly impossible for her to conceal further their affair - though it was highly dubious that Leliana hadn't already known about it for a long time. "Don't worry Inquisitor, he would have already sent us a message if he couldn't make it for tomorrow", Leliana had told her. But that didn't comfort her enough.  
And when the long-awaited day arrived, it seemed to her longer than any other day she had ever lived. The sun shone bright over Skyhold, so bright that it seemed to mock her for her worriedness. She hadn't slept all night and had been gifted at last with a peaceful slumber only at dawn. Then, she had started wandering aimlessly around the hold until, after hours of painstaking agony, afternoon came. She lingered at the stables, in Blackwall's company, for she couldn't bear to be alone with her thoughts anymore, even if in truth she didn't pay attention to anything the Grey Warden had to say.  
"I'm sure he'll be back in a few hours just like he predicted...", finally Blackwall said.   
Riwan, brought back to reality, acknowledged his words perhaps for the first time and blurted out the first thing that crossed her mind: "I don't know what you mean!"  
Blackwall laughed hearty laughter: "You make a fine couple."  
She thanked him with an affectionate gaze and drew her attention again to the hay they were feeding the horses.  
When the sun was low on the horizon she could wait no more. She would have liked to wait for him at the entrance of the village on the other side of the bridge but... that would have given them away completely. Not that it mattered to her, but it mattered to him.   
Still, she couldn't resist and ventured forth till she was halfway over the bridge and felt faint and a little relieved in all that vastness. The sky was painted orange, as was the snow on the mountains around, and the smoke that came out from the chimneys of the village across the bridge. The shiver that ran along her spine while looking at the gorge below her made her feel alive again. She was suspended above nothing, as she had been suspended in the air when she had fallen in the pit at Adamant, when she had cried for Mythal's help... She closed her eyes and breathed in the breeze that shily caressed the otherwise still air. Then, the sound of hooves echoing through the mountains announced him before she could even see him. Her heart bolted up in her throat as she looked towards the end of the bridge in anticipation. As the sound became louder, her heartbeats became stronger and her hands started to tremble.  
The tiny figures of a group of soldiers appeared on the road. Fear overcame her.  
The images that the Nightmare had shown her flashed in her mind like lightning bolts. And still, the figures grew bigger, their armors and weapons reflecting the sun and glimmering of orange light. She had seen her sister tortured, her entire clan wiped out by templars.   
The group became visible at the end of the bridge: he was at its front, his mantle floating behind him in the air.  
She had seen him dead before her, a hole in his chest, just like Brian before. Then, she had seen him wounding her with his blade, just like that templar had done. And she had found herself scared that those images may all become true. She had doubted herself. They had stuck to her mind and they were crippling her senses. The horses slowed down as soon as they saw her standing right in the middle of the bridge. And then they reached her and he dismounted and she saw his face pale as she had never seen it, his eyes red and circled as if he hadn't slept in days, wrinkles across his dry skin that she had never noticed before. He covered the few paces that divided them, carrying his puffing Forder by the bridle, and she saw him like it was the first time: towering height over hers, his powerful figure, his kind smile, the scar on his lip, and when in her stupor their eyes finally locked she saw by the way he looked at her that he couldn't hide the happiness of seeing her again and the fondness for her showed even if they were in front of his soldiers. And the fear gave way to the feeble certainties that he would not die till she was alive and had the power to prevent it and that he would never harm her even if he ever would leave her.  
She shot a quick glance to the five or six men and women behind him, all clad in armor and sitting high up on their steeds, all looking at them with mild curiosity. She barely acknowledged them and couldn't resist anymore. In an instant, she threw herself on him, buried her face in the fur of his mantle, let herself be enveloped by his arms and his familiar smell and by the warmth that she could feel even through the cold metal breastplate.  
He left the bridle and, forgetful of the others behind him, locked her in his embrace and concealed her from the world around them, shielded her from the breeze, shut out the   
Nightmare.   
She lessened the grip around his waist only to look at his face through suppressed tears.  
"You're back", she whispered.   
"I am...". He cupped her face with his hand.  
Without thinking she kissed him briefly - and that broke the spell. He coughed and flushed as she finally became aware of the giggles and the comments that the soldiers behind them were exchanging between themselves. She looked at them with terrified eyes and, realizing that she had acted against his wish of secrecy, shifted her gaze towards him, ready to withstand his annoyance.  
He coughed and cleared his voice and, turning awkwardly towards his corporals and lieutenants, said: "If it wasn't obvious enough for you all, I hope this settled the matter."   
She looked at him, completely astonished by his coolness, and laughed heartily, more surprised than Cullen himself by his sudden humor. The soldiers laughed and cheered, Lysette between them saying: "This was one of the sweetest things I have ever seen."   
"I am completely amazed!", La'Nen boasted.  
"Please... refrain from divulging this. I ask it as a personal favour", Cullen finally added, slowly regaining his composure.   
The soldiers agreed, though, after the scene they had witnessed, it was nearly impossible for most of them to maintain the detachment and the professionalism which their ranks required.   
"We'll leave you two alone, Commander!", one of them ventured to say in a fit of giggles.   
They surpassed them on their horses and left them on the bridge.  
And as they returned inside the fort, slowly walking side by side, she felt groggy and everything felt luminescent and light. And when he eventually carried out everything he needed to do as he resumed command, she had already been waiting for him in his room for some time. And she could finally delight in the warmth of his body again and shed some angry and bitter tears that ran down his shoulder and his chest and they could tell each other everything they couldn't in the aftermath of the battle.


	25. A better man

###  A better man 

"If you're really feeling fine I guess I'll see you this afternoon at the war council."  
She had set him a trap, her voice allusive and her eyes fiery. He couldn't pretend anymore.  
And if he didn't show up that afternoon she would break into his office and demand an explanation, no matter how many soldiers he put guarding outside his tower or how many excuses he could come up with to justify his absence.  
He pressed his fingers on the bridge of his nose, his arms were shaking and he was sweating.  
He had tossed his mantle on the ground with all the strength he could master after she had left him with those ominous words.  
No wonder he couldn't keep it up anymore, no wonder he couldn't hide it from her.  
Everyone was outside, indulging in the spring's beauty and balmy smells, enjoying the generous rays of the sun that reached the ground behind the tall windows and the leafy trees. They were delighting in the birds chirping and quarrelling over the bread crumbs that Cole left them. While he was locked in his room, hating the light, hating the noise and hating the heat.  
More than a week had passed since the last time they had slept together and he had ran out of pretenses and excuses - especially after he had left her that damned message: “I’ve added a new thing to the list of my favourite things, right next to playing chess with a worthy opponent and Martha’s steak - and you know how much I like both of them - and it is hugging you under the covers before falling asleep”. Yes, no wonder that she was suspicious, and furious too - she was starting to get offended by his poor statements: "I have a lot of reports to write, I'm sorry..." and "I was so tired yesterday that I fell asleep and forgot to come". He should consider himself lucky that she had _let_ him pretend for all that time.  
It normally took him a few minutes to take off his armour when he was fine. That day, it seemed to him that a full hour had passed when he finally managed to take off his kneepieces.  
He tossed them in the corner of the room, as far as he could throw them.  
Cole had started to visit him again. And Cassandra too, sense of guilt painted all over her face, she bit her lips and said comforting words. He could not listen. He could not pray anymore.  
Something had shaken him too much in Adamant. He had thought that the days of the steeled wall covering his heart were over. But Adamant brought it back. He had thought that he would not feel again the irrational fear of demons and abominations that he had felt once. But Adamant had brought it back. He had thought that he could overcome the scarrings that magic had left on his body and on his mind. But Adamant had brought it back.  
And, worst of all, a new fear that made him choke - they had told him that she was dead.  
He closed his eyes and gave in to the dark, to the song in his head that made him crave just for one sip, one sniff, one bit of the blue relief. He crouched beside his desk, where the sun could not reach him, where the pavement was cold, and took his lyrium ingestion kit. He passed a shaking hand on the smooth surface of its lid - it was too much. He tried to fight back the tears and the gagging but he couldn't anymore, every single memory from Adamant brought back one from Kinloch, from Kirkwall. He shook from head to toe, embraced to his lyrium ingestion kit, crying through gritted teeth, his shirt glued to his chest, soaked in sweat. He drowned in the dark swamp, though Cole's voice pleaded him to listen, though his fingers hurt while clutching the box - he would not go to the war council. Let them find him there. Let them finally replace him with a better man.

When he opened his eyes again the light from the windows wasn't so bright anymore. It fell horizontally on the ground, touching one of his boots and making his head throb at its only sight. He felt feverish and confused and it took him a few seconds to realize that he was still holding onto the lyrium box and that someone was silently walking in his office. The sound of footsteps stopped somewhere near him as that someone sat on the ground beside him.  
Her smell. He winced and rested his head on the wood behind his head.  
'It's over', he thought. He started shaking again and wetting frantically his lips. He was so thirsty and Maker - it was over. He felt tears surfacing again in his eyes as she shuffled beside him. He knew that this day would come, sooner or later - he had accepted his fate since the night he had given in to his feelings. ‘Sooner or later I will make it end, but give me at least a few days of apparent happiness’, he had thought. He knew it, so now he should face his responsibility with dignity.  
She was finally still. He could hear perfectly well in the still and pounding air how she drew her breath as she began to talk - but her voice was soft and low. Surprised, he listened, trying to overcome the sickness.  
"...and when they brought me back to our settlement I laid still on the same bed for days. I don't know how many. It was fine for the healers, they had to treat my wound and only two of our mages who had managed to save themselves could help - they weren't in town that day... but I would not move, not even when they asked me to. And it wasn't simply that I would not do it… I could not. I felt like I was - drowning in that sorrow and that I could not live anymore, that way I just - I wanted to give up on myself. I wanted someone to have mercy on me and spare me that suffering, that life knowing that Orawen and Brian had been taken from me. The last images of his body- of Wen... it was all that I could see, over and over again. When I finally started talking again I told the Keeper that I didn't want to go on anymore. She answered that if that was true then I would have already killed myself. 'Go on and do it', she said. Mythal, that made me furious!", she chuckled lightly, her shoulder touching his for a brief moment. "But then... slowly, yes, but things started to go on again...life started to flow like it used to... it took me a lot of time and a lot of pain... for me and for the poor ones who had to deal with me, for all of us who were hurt that day. It was very slow, like walking in a swamp. But I think I got out somehow. Sometimes it happens that I take a false step, but it's fine. And now, even if I believe I am the - unluckiest elf in Thedas, I am beside you and I never thought that ever again in my life I would have... found someone like you. So -", she coughed, slightly embarrassed, "will you please tell me what's going on?"  
He found the strength to turn his head and to look at her. She was playing with a piece of lint and she looked serene, a little worried, but calm.  
And it came all out of him. As always, his mouth spoke before he could think - but this time, he let it speak, he couldn’t keep it any longer. And the words were like a hook that caught onto the anger and the desperation inside of him and slowly dragged them out. He found himself rambling while shaking and he tossed the lyrium kit away. It crashed onto the wall.  
He told her about Ferelden's Circle, taken over by abominations. About how not one of the templars had survived... the templars, his friends, killed by those abominations, those mages, in front of him. About what he did to help them: nothing, he could do nothing.  
"You know how it feels, doing nothing. I was trapped, bound behind a magic barrier and... and I stayed there with the demons after they were all dead". He took his head in his hands and she still didn't move, she turned her head towards him, a subtle movement.  
"I don't know how long they kept me there," he said, barely recognizing his own voice. And he told her about the tortures, without even knowing what he was saying. About his mind bent and almost broken, about the craving for sleep, for food and water and air, about his body violated and about the shame - the shame of being found there, almost delirious, by the Hero of Ferelden herself and by Leliana.  
"Leliana was there?" she murmured the question as if speaking was forbidden.  
"Yes! The pity in her eyes while she watched me! I will never forget it!" he scoffed. It was true. He would never forget her face, the mute horror in her eyes and her jaws clenching. He would never be the same after that. He had lost his former self forever in Kinloch and he would never be that man, that boy again.  
And then there was Kirkwall - he had asked, begged them to be sent away, he wanted to serve, to do something and he couldn't stay in Kinloch any second longer.  
"I served under Meredith. I was happy at first, I thought she was like me."  
"Like you?" again she was hesitant. He felt like a rabid beast.  
Of course, Meredith was like him. She had seen what magic could do, she had seen and experienced the horror, of the whole, set, established world, rioting against you. And he had trusted her blindly, yes, blindly was the right word, and deafly too.  
But she became paranoid, obsessed, her fear of mages made her more delirious than himself and he couldn't follow her. Not when innocent people were stalked and persecuted in front of him, with his clearance too. He didn't know what brought it back - the image that he had when he was little, of the templars walking through his village, righting the wrongs, carrying the groceries that Old Nana Turnip couldn't lift. He had repeatedly refused to see everything that was going on in front of him and now - he didn't want to be responsible for all that hurt. But in the end, the little good he did wasn't enough - trusting Hawke, let her set mages free, covering those he could cover. It wasn't enough and Meredith turned on her own men and on Kirkwall's people and on the Champion too.  
Mages and templars killing each other on the streets, the same as Kinloch all over again, corpses, blood, abominations and innocent people screaming and their eyes asking him what had they done to deserve this.  
He wanted nothing to do with that life anymore. He wanted to cleanse himself from it, from his past. She said something but he talked over her, anger making his hands trembling more than his craving did.  
He didn't want her pity, she should be judging his actions, judging his worthiness, his capability to carry the responsibility of being the Commander of an army such as the one they had - too many people relied on him. And here he was, barely able to stand on his own legs, barely able to keep himself away from the lyrium, barely able to look after himself. How could he look after them like that? How could he lead them, knowing that he could do no more for them than what he had done for the Chantry?  
"But these thoughts won't leave me, I need to wipe them out of my mind but I can't! Ten years have passed and I am still haunted by it. I see it all, even Kirkwall, all the time, and I can't do this anymore. I should be taking it!"  
He realized that he had yelled and now had no more strength inside him. His eyes were fixed on the library in front of him, on the broken pieces of the lyrium kit. He had almost forgotten that she was still beside him.  
"Cullen, do you really want to take it? This is not about the Inquisition, this is about you. You can take your time, as I took mine years ago because now I'm here to take care of you. We all are - Cassandra and Leliana and Josie too..."  
Her words hit him like a shield bash on his chest. He caught his breath and felt something crush inside him. He shook his head, repeatedly, his body rejecting her forgiveness, her offer of redemption.  
"You said it yourself, you can endure it," she said and he could hear the smile in her voice.  
He lost control of himself again and bowed his head between his knees, covering himself with his arms, he started sobbing. He was suddenly powerless. He was drained and empty and he felt dirty and weak, only the blue could fill him, that's what he was worthy of, not her understanding, not her care, not her remission.  
"Please- I need to be alone now" he managed to say.  
"Yes..." she murmured, but she didn't move.  
"Please," he said again, tears unruly on his cheeks and his chin.  
He felt her arms embracing him strongly, her fingers grabbing his back and his arm, her head buried in the back of his neck. She was warm as her words for him were and when she said "I'm going, I'm going", a new hope sprouted inside him, that he had done it right, to say it all, for the truth was that no one had ever told him they would take care of him, perhaps only someone in his family, his sister or his mother, but that had been a long time ago, in another life, when he was another man.


	26. Healing

### Healing

The next day Cullen didn’t show up at the war table and everything had already been arranged for his absence by the other advisors.  
Riwan found herself staring briefly at his spot, now occupied by Cassandra, whose frown and shut, straight mouth made her look a few years older. It was strange, but actually everything was running smoothly even without him.  
Josephine and Leliana had sent him notes threatening to end his life if he didn't rest and Cassandra had gone to his quarters to retrieve his pile of reports to work on.  
Once the meeting was other she wandered out of the castle, in dire need of solitude and of a fresh breath of pure air.  
She wandered in the woods nearby, rummaging his words in her head. Since she didn't wish to disturb him, she had sent Cora to his quarters, carrying a tray laden with breakfast. She had put an elven concoction next to a mug of strong, Antivan coffee and butter cookies and she had written next to it on a piece of paper: “Drink it, it’s Dalish”.  
A strange feeling was stirring inside her chest, though she couldn't exactly grasp its meaning.  
She had lied: it wasn't true that now she was fine, otherwise she would have gladly shown him her back, she would not have been tormented by this seed of hatred that had installed itself in the mouth of her stomach. 'I'd like to avenge all the elves', she allowed herself to think. But then she took a deep breath and commanded herself to stay calm, that she had restored Briala's power, that her hand would stop giving her jolts of random pain, that her strange dreams full of glaring eyes would cease, that he would finally be fine and well. And smiling.  
During that week it seemed that everyone tried to find some spare time to relieve Cullen from his duties or to simply comfort him.  
She found Varric on the training fields, instructing the archers she had meant to teach.  
"I don't know why I am doing this...", he said.  
She practiced with some of the soldiers for a few hours. Their numbers had thinned since Adamant and some were still mourning the lost ones. But their arrows had become swift and precise and the dummies would soon need to be replaced.  
After an hour or so she turned, only to see Cullen leaning on the woodden fence and scrutinizing the fields.  
Those who had been the longest under his command knew that they shouldn’t interrupt their activities to salute him, but some new recruits, dumbstruck by his sudden appearance, rigidly reunited their feet and took their fists to their chest.  
But he had no armour on, so they soon resumed their training, not needing to fear their Commander at least for that day. He looked briefly at her from afar and shot her a tepid smile and when she looked back a few seconds later he had already disappeared.  
The evening passed as dully as the day had, and she ate in the tavern with Sera and Blackwall, not really listening to them. The windows showed the sky darkening outside and some clouds gathering over the mountains. She went back to her room early enough to write some letters and she breathed a sigh of relief in seeing a little piece of paper on the floor just behind the threshold.  
His neat and small handwriting informed her that of course he was fine and that he was suffering the inactivity. He wished to see her as soon as he got better and he excused himself for the problems he was creating. Such formality made her nervous and insecure and she slept a disturbed sleep where an insistent voice called to her. 'Da'len.'

“I’m sorry, I’m late”, ha said, announcing himself. They all stood for a moment glued to their spots, looking at him in mild surprise.  
The war council that morning had brought up a heated discussion and right in the middle of it he had entered the room.  
Riwan automatically assessed his condition with quick eyes and after almost a week without properly seeing him she felt her heart quickening its pace.  
Cassandra was the first one to break the silence and, giving him a fierce stare, said: “What are you doing here, Commander? Aren’t you supposed to be at rest?”  
“I’m fine”, he replied, giving Cassandra a stern look back. “I’m just - I will only follow your work.” No one answered and blameful gazes laid on him. "I will just follow your work - resting. I won't interfere. I'll just sit here and listen."  
Riwan stifled a chuckle and looked at the table, waiting for the other women's response.  
Cassandra grunted but gave in, Leliana asked him if he was sure but he replied that he was all right and that he had just a mild headache but nothing else to complain about.  
The heated argument resumed and as soon as he understood the topic he immediately jumped up from his place and interrupted Josephine mid-sentence.  
"You're joking, right?". All the women immediately shushed him.  
"You're no active participant to this discussion, Cullen," Leliana politely pointed out.  
“Yes. And we cannot afford to ignore the problem any longer now," Cassandra said, her eyes piercing Riwan from side to side.  
The elf sighed and let out a loud groan, vigorously massaging her face. "Why!" she complained.  
It was true. Since their first expedition to the Hinterlands, she had accurately avoided any contact with the problem - and in any other place they had visited up until that moment, truth be told. But now, the dragon was apparently widening its field of action and the village of Redcliffe was starting to be seriously threatened by it. None of her arguments had made Cassandra budge an inch, on the contrary, they had only strengthened her determination.  
"I don't care if you find it nice, if it has children, as you call them, or if it is a sacred animal and you don't have the courage to do it, I will go by myself if it is necessary," she had said.  
Riwan's teeth were gritted so that her mouth had disappeared and an ugly grimace was on her face. How were they supposed to kill a high-dragon?  
But everything had been decided already, with or without her approval, and they would live first thing tomorrow morning to the hunt.  
As soon as the meeting finished, Cassandra handed Cullen a pile of finished reports: “You’re welcome”, she said. He looked at her and at the reports with a puzzled look. “I-uhm… thank you”.  
Everyone walked away and eventually Riwan too. She looked briefly at Josephine handing Cullen several vials of medicines before marching to the armory to try and sharpen her arrows. Her hands were already shaking.

It was late when she finally made up her mind. She was already in her pajamas, combing her wet hair in front of the fire, staring numbly at the book Dorian had given her: "Tevinter cooking history - the origins of an Empire". The panic at the thought of the high-dragon had made her stomach collapse on itself until it felt like a little nut and her vision was blurry. With a short breath and a wild-beating heart she got up, wrapped herself in her dark nightgown and reluctantly put on a pair of slippers. Then, as silent as a fox, she slipped out of her quarters and walked across Skyhold’s main hall, keeping herself in the shadows, careful not to be seen. She stopped for a second behind a gigantic, wooden mabari statue and thought to herself about what would be the best way to take. She made up her mind and leaped on the other side of the hall, swiftly opening the door that led to the rotunda.  
She crouched and eyed suspiciously the room: no trace of Solas, not even on the couch he had occupied the night of their strange fight.  
Walking with her back towards the wall, she reached the other side of the room and the door that led to the bastions. It was a matter of seconds and she was already knocking lightly on his door. She could see the lights flickering in the upper floor of the tower. Hearing no answer, she tried the door: it was unlocked.  
She let herself in. As soon as she shut it behind her, she heard his imperative voice: “Who’s there?”  
“It’s… me,” she said in a low tone, feeling almost scared.  
“Is everything alright?”  
“Yes. Can I come up?” she rashly said.  
She heard him sigh. “I… I wouldn’t advise it.”  
“Please? I can’t sleep. I promise that I’ll be quiet.”  
She heard him shuffling and then saw him coming down the narrow stairs, with a crumpled shirt on, half popping out of his leather breeches. Some curls were resting on his forehead and he obliviously passed a hand over them, trying to put them back in place.  
"I'm sorry. I know that you wanted to be left alone, but-" she burst out as soon as he made his apparition. But he didn't seem angry, on the contrary, he looked surprised and baffled.  
“It’s not that”, he said, shaking his head, "I-I'm a mess. I thought that you wouldn't want to - to have anything - I mean". He struggled for words and eventually gave in. "It doesn't matter. I'm happy to see you. I mustn't be a very nice view."  
A smiled forcefully made way on her lips. "On the contrary," she said. "Can I rest with you for a bit? I'm so nervous about tomorrow..."  
"Of course," he said, "Just... well I've got a fever. And my room isn't in a fit state for guests."  
"It doesn't matter. I won't bother you. I’ll just stay there in a corner and you won't even notice that I'm there."  
He let himself fall on his undone bed as soon as they reached the upper floor and looked helplessly at her while she took on her surroundings - lit candles and a fire, a hole in the ceiling, a library, books spilled on the floor, an open chest, a dresser and a chair upon which his mantle had been discarded.  
“Wait - there’s a hole in the ceiling!” she finally realized.  
“Yes”, he said.  
"So that's why you always come to my room. Aren't you cold, you poor thing? Why won't they repair it?"  
He laughed at her words, the first laughter that came to him after his crisis. It felt strange and his facial muscles felt incredibly stiff.  
"It isn't like that. I actually like it."  
“But what if it rains? Or snows?”  
“I put a bucket under it.”  
She quickly turned to face him. "You're joking."  
"In fact, I am not."  
She laughed out loud at this absurdity, sitting on his bed in order to keep her balance.  
"Weird shem costumes..." she mumbled. It sorted the desired laughter from him and her nerves calmed down a little bit.  
He raised his tired eyes towards her and shot her a kind gaze. “All right… About that dragon...”  
He sat beside her as she lowered her head. Just hearing the word 'dragon' made shivers run down her spine.  
'Dragons are powerful creatures, Da'Len, especially high dragons. They defend their nest and  
raid the lands around it. And you know why? For their children Da'Len. High dragons are always females, ready for anything in order to protect their offspring.. That is why we must avoid them, respect them and admire their power'. The words of her Keeper were etched into her mind like a pattern impressed by a forge.  
"You know I am against it...", Cullen continued.  
"I know."  
"...but we should get rid of it, for Redcliffe village. So, listen to me. Stay the farthest possible from that beast. Let Cassandra deal with it. Or whoever you want to bring with you. Let the warrior keep it busy. You stay out of reach and cover as much as you can, all right? Especially from its claws and its tail. I read that it breathes fire, so bring Solas with you, he is an ice mage, right?"  
She nodded silently as he went on. "Please, avoid any unnecessary danger. The dragon makes the earth shake when it jumps and it may fly away and try to hit you from the sky... Ah, for the Maker, it would be better if you stayed here..."  
"I'll be fine," she immediately said, and hugged him and wished that she hadn't troubled him with any other thought than that of his recovery. "I'll follow your advice and I'll come back in one piece, carrying the dragon's head as my crown, chanting the glory of Elgar'nan, for the joy of all our Chantry followers."  
He looked at her and sighed. "Of course you will. Then let's hope that the All-Father will protect you, together with Andraste. But you've already faced Corypheus, so-"  
"How do you know about - oh. I told you, didn't I? About Elgar'nan."  
"And I listened like a diligent student. He who overthrew his Father", he caressed her face as her eyes widened. "I do pay attention when you speak."  
"You do..." Riwan said. She kissed him strongly, fighting the tears in her eyes.  
"You're the only one who does," she whispered. But he didn't seem to hear her over the sound of her kisses.  
The morning after, when he woke up, she was already gone. He had slept a troubled sleep, but at least he had slept. He looked around him and saw something on the ground beside his bed.  
She had forgotten her slippers in his room.


	27. Dragon fight!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everybody!! Sorry for the big delay in updating, this chapter has been on my mind the whole time, but I've had so many problems in my working life that I was too tired to think about putting myself in front of a computer screen in the evening!  
> Anyway, now everything is calmer and I should be able to update more frequently!  
> (-20 days to Christmas!!!)

### Dragon fight!

A fine sun was shining upon the green grass of the Hinterlands, kissing the top of the trees with its rays, making the flowers open their petals to greet it, luring the rams and the fennecs out of their dens.  
Riwan could almost close her eyes and try to doze off while still walking: their feet on the ground produced a nice rustling noise, the ferns scratched their boots and got caught in their satchels and the newly awoken bees flew around their heads in a frenzy of activity.   
The previous night she had barely slept, even if the villagers of Redcliffe had been more than glad to give them some rooms to pass the night in. The host of The Gull and Lantern had provided them with two of his best bedrooms and had even served them a nice hot meal. Their horses and the Inquisitor’s halla were pampered and nourished in the nearby stables.   
All would be nice and jolly if only they were on a pleasure trip, on a random visit to the village, were they merely passing by, headed to other destinations.  
But that morning they got up before dawn, put on their best armours and equipped their sharpest weapons and set off before the sun had made itself visible in the sky. It was when they reached Dusklight Camp that the day announced itself in all its glory, making Molioris one of the most beautiful months Riwan had ever witnessed since she had joined the Inquisition.  
She kept her mind busy all morning by thinking about the herbs that would be growing in the underbrush, by repeating receipts of concoctions and infusions, by listing the name of the birds whose eggs were going to hatch in that period. But when they reached Dusklight Camp and the sun hit her in the face, she started shaking and stopped abruptly in her tracks.  
“I can’t do it, I’m sorry.”  
She turned and marched away from her group. A hand firmly gripped her wrist and pulled her back.  
“Inquisitor”. Cassandra’s growl was eloquent enough, without the warrior needing to add any other words.  
Riwan looked at her with wide-open eyes, a supplicant expression on her face, her nostrils moving as she rapidly breathed. “Please…” she pleaded.  
“All right, stay in camp then. We’ll go.”  
Cassandra had already gone on and almost disappeared behind the profile of a hill when Varric spoke: “Hey if she can stay then I’ll stay too. I’m too talented and beautiful to die. The world still needs me.”  
Cassandra turned and looked at them, her hand compulsively squeezing the hilt of her sword. Solas stood still, in the middle of their group, a few paces ahead of Varric and her and a few behind the Seeker. He cleared his throat and looked at them with an embarrassed stare.  
“Well then, what shall we do?”  
“Inquisitor,” Cassandra began, with a fury that made her eyes shine, “Do you know that the villagers had started to build a harbour? Did you pay attention during the war council? Then the dragon came and killed them all and set most of their work on fire! We have to free the area! What would you do if a dragon set its camp near your elven village? Would you let it kill your hallas and your friends? Or would you slay it before it did any more damage?”  
Riwan stood still, not moving a single muscle, facing Cassandra with a gaze which she hoped would carry the same intensity as the Seeker’s one. She felt Varric mumble and shuffle beside her. She gulped, but before she could say anything, Cassandra began to rant on: “You two!”  
“Me?” Varric said, pointing a finger towards himself and trying his best to look hurt.  
“Yes, you! You two are always complaining and grumbling about this and that, you have no sense of duty at all and you encourage each other in this irresponsible behaviour. It feels like dealing with two children!”  
A pang of guilt briefly crossed Riwan’s chest and her left hand tingled as if to support her unclean conscience. She sustained the angry Seeker’s gaze for another few seconds and then bowed her head.  
“All right,” she said. She walked on, past Cassandra, and then added: “But I didn’t say that I would kill it, even if my village were involved”. The sound of the warrior’s familiar grumble reached her before that of her heavy boots.

‘Oh Andruil,’ Riwan started to pray, as Solas yelled and raised an ice wall before a gigantic fireball hit them, ‘Andruil, Sister of the Moon, Lady of the Hunt, preserve me.’   
The blast of the fireball destroyed Solas’ magic wall in a rain of humid snow, and a gust of wind, at first freezing and then scorching hot, hit her cheeks and made her nose go numb.   
They hid until the dragon flew away, surely headed to protect its nest, but her children came nonetheless.  
‘Andruil, my arrow flies straight and does not waver’. She closed her eyes, in order not to see the dragonlings in front of her perish under their bows. She heard their cries, though, and Solas’ voice too: “What are you doing Inquisitor?”. Varric stood beside her, “Shit, shit, and shit” he said and nothing could be more comforting to her in that moment.   
They moved forward on their quest, deep into Lady Shayna’s Valley and a vein of red lyrium appeared in front of them, buzzing with its hideous noise. After having killed Mythal knew how many dragonlings, Cassandra proceeded to destroy the lyrium. Riwan crouched on the ground, beside one of the little beasts: it seemed asleep. Its body was stone cold, Solas had hit it with one of his spells. She caressed its smooth scales and then got up after Cassandra’s commanding gaze. “Those scales will do a fantastic armour, Inquisitor. You can thank me later.”  
‘Andruil, my bow bends but never breaks,’ she thought, as they tiptoed towards the dragon’s nest. She could hear its deep breath right in her body, it was so powerful and profound that it made the air shiver around them. And then, a few paces forward, she saw it bathing in the sun’s rays. Its head was resting on its front claws and its wings were closed and covered its body in a sinuous embrace.   
It was Solas who hit it first. With a swift and almost soundless movement, he summoned ice on its hind paws, ice that Riwan saw sprouting from thin air and solidifying around the dragon’s legs, making it impossible for it to jump and fly away. The beast opened its eyes in a stupor for a moment and then roared in pure rage, making her eardrums throb and the ground shake beneath them. In a moment, it freed itself from the spell, but it was enough for Cassandra to run under it and to start hitting hard.  
She did not really know what happened next. She could scarcely see, the heat from the dragon’s fire made the air tremble and vapour exhale around them, its jumps made it almost impossible for her to keep her balance. She only knew that Cassandra was facing it and that Solas was hitting it with his spells.  
“Crazy!” Varric yelled. She followed the dwarf’s voice and started to shoot one arrow after another, trying to stay away from its claws and its tail. She felt as if it was her first time in the Hinterlands, as if they had gone back to months ago, when exactly the four of them barely knew each other and when they had to grab her from the ground and drag her with them, scared and disgusted by the blood and the fights.  
‘Andruil, I receive the gifts of the forest with mindfulness’, she thought, and as she thought, she saw Cassandra’s blade piercing the creature’s body and blood spilling on the dragon’s scales and its feet shaking for the pain.   
Riwan moaned as tears violently came out of her eyes. “Oh, no…” she sobbed and started running around, not knowing anymore where she was going or what she was doing. And then the dragon jumped, but this time with more vigour, it jumped away from the warrior that had wounded it and it landed a few feet away from her, making her fly to the ground. For a few seconds, she couldn’t breathe and a dull pain to her ribcage made her open wide her mouth. “Get up!” she heard someone yell. She obeyed, her mouth still agape, choking for air in that scorching atmosphere. She lifted her face and she saw, as swift as a snake, the dragon’s tail hiss through the air, a blur of color and sound. Something smacked her body hard, she could hear her own bones thud and thump before everything turned black. She made a wild guess before her brain left her: ‘Andruil, is it possible that the dragon’s tail hit me?’

“So, tell me everything, how did it happen?”  
“Well-”  
“And don’t you think that I’m not angry with you, Boss. Next time you’ll have to bring me with you. Taarsidath-an halsaam…”  
“Well, I-”  
“Hey, wait, wait, wait. I should be the one telling the story, I’m the storyteller of the group after all!”  
“Then go on, Varric!”  
“All right. So, we reached Lady Shayna’s Valley in the early morning, the sun had barely risen. Black clouds hovered over our heads and a graveyard of ashes and burning embers lay in front of us. We had barely set foot into the dragon’s nest, the smoke making us cough and making our eyes cry, when a terrifying roar nearly deafened us. The dragon landed right behind us, as swift as an arrow reaching you from the sky, as loud as the thunder in summer. It breathed its fire on us and we barely had time to turn and try to run away. Barely, I said - Solas covered himself with a shield of ice, looking at the beast with those eyes that understand far better than you what’s really going to happen. He covered our escape, but his magic wasn’t enough to protect him: soon the claws of the dragon were on him and his limp body was thrown away, as if it weighed no more than a leaf-”  
“Varric, but-”  
“Shhh, let him finish.”  
“Thank you. We watched in horror that spectacle in front of us, but there was no time to help our friend. And soon the Seeker was charging against the beast, her sword reflected its flames and seemed ablaze and the Inquisitor and I poured arrows on its gleamy flanks. But our sword and arrows were nothing but sticks fighting against steel and the Seeker knelt on the ground in exhaustion-”  
“I-”  
“KNELT on the ground, I said, and she shot a final glance at me before saying: ‘Don’t let my sacrifice go to waste’. I had barely time to answer when she launched herself against the dragon’s chest, piercing it with her sword, red flaming blood making her scream in pain before she fainted. The dragon was wounded, but not yet killed. Riwan and I were the only ones left: we looked at each other in the eyes, a glance that spoke alone more than a thousand words. And soon we were dancing around the flamy fiend: magic and sword hadn’t killed it, perhaps our agility would overwhelm it. We jumped from side to side, covering each other’s backs, our arrows looked like crystals in the air, like poisonous stars that struck the creature, making its skin fume. But it wasn’t enough. ‘Varric, it is too strong, what shall we do?’, Crazy’s desperate voice reached me. It was true. I stopped briefly to look at the dragon and then it hit me. I commanded her to distract it and she ran away, like a hare in a dark field, the dragon at her sheens, the fire gurgling in its throat. But it would not catch her: I mastered all my strength and jumped on the dragon’s back, grasping desperately onto its slippery back, holding so tight that my hands started bleeding. I managed to lift myself on it, even if I was shaken from side to side by the dragon’s jumps and snaps. And then it stopped: Crazy was cornered. ‘Varric!’ she yelled. And I knew that it was now or never. Just the second before the dragon lashed out to her I extracted my dagger and aimed it precisely where the cerebellum of the beast was. Or so I hoped. I saw the Inquisitor’s green eyes look at me in terror below the beast’s head, I felt its body shake and get ready to plunge and then - it was over.”  
A deep silence followed. It seemed like that part of the tavern had been deprived of air. But the noises from downstairs still reached them, laughter, chatting, the cluttering of glasses and plates, Cabot’s low growl surely aimed to his drunken guests.  
Bull finally shook himself from his amazement and his lost look was replaced by a more dubious one.  
“That’s really how it went?”. His brows met at the middle of his forehead and he kept a full jug tight to his chest.  
“Yes!” Varric said.   
Riwan heard him chuckle lightly beside her and looked at him trying to stifle his laughter by swallowing big gulps of ale. She was biting the inside of her lips and thought that she didn’t feel like spoiling the dwarf’s amusement herself. But Cassandra, sitting in front of her, crouched over her jug and covering her face with her gloved hands, looked approximately like a boiling pot with a lid on. The lid could stay closed only until the foam didn’t get out. And Riwan was sure that the Seeker was already restraining herself hard enough.  
Bull’s laughter boomed and the table shook under his fists: “You’re a real dragon hunter, dwarf!”  
“Indeed I am…”  
“Enough!”  
Cassandra’s yell echoed through the room and brought back the same silence as before. Everybody turned to look at her.  
“It wasn’t like that!”   
With the biggest effort, Cassandra raised her chin and looked around her. Her cheeks were flushed and she seemed ashamed, like a schoolgirl surprised lingering with her lover. “It wasn’t like that,” she mumbled again.  
“Then, pray tell us, how was it?” Dorian asked, a smug smile on his lips, delighted in seeing the Seeker so flushed and flustered.   
“It - it was horrible!” Cassandra said, lowering her gaze towards the table, “The Inquisitor was knocked down after two minutes-”  
“What?!” Cullen’s angry bark could barely be heard above Cassandra’s desperate confession.  
“-two minutes! She lay flat on the ground while we tried desperately to fight it ...”  
“And?” Bull pressed on.  
Cassandra let out a muffled cry before resuming her tale: “And so we hid behind some rocks for hours, hours! Until Solas, spell after spell, managed to weaken it enough for me to end it with the sword! It was a disaster!”  
Silence ensued, broken only by the Seeker gulping down her ale.   
Then, everybody started talking at once:  
“You were knocked out after two minutes?!”, “You guys suck…”, “I told you to bring me with you!” and “Where’s Solas, I’d like to hear his version of this story.”  
Riwan gradually bowed her head towards the table, until she couldn’t hold it anymore.  
“I was against it the whole time!”  
That night they went to bed really late, after having fought for hours and then decided that at least they were all alive, the dragon was dead and Redcliff Village had been satisfied.   
But Riwan went to bed even later, because Cullen wouldn’t let her get away with it until he had spoken his mind: he scolded her, they fought again and then he kissed her and held her until he was sure that she really was all in one piece.


	28. Dancing classes

### Dancing classes

"Now, will you please follow my lead? We are not doing this for fun!"  
Josephine's stern look and posture made Riwan and Varric giggle even harder. And the problem wasn't that the Ambassador wasn't a good teacher or that Vivienne wasn't a good example for them to follow; it was simply that they were totally incapable of acting as if they even cared about orlesian dances at all. Varric had entered the hall declaring that he would not move a single foot unless Empress Celene herself expressly required it with stamped and scented paper - besides he feared for himself, for people were bound not to notice him on the dance floor and would certainly stumble over him. Riwan, on the other hand, expert only in Dalish-around-the-campfire dances, had wondered if it was better to have a light breakfast that morning, and had then thanked her appetite for preventing her from going lightly on the bread and marmalade, for the dances were so boring and composed that she would have no trouble digesting at all.  
While Varric clowned around, babbling nonsense in a perfectly mimed orlesian accent - "Look at my perfèct pas de le Chevalier, Inquisitòr" - Riwan wondered how could the orlesians call those movements 'dances' at all. They looked much more like a bunch of elaborate and preset figures, not even so funny to perform, whereas Dalish dances...  
"Please, Inquisitor, I beg you. It is very important that you learn these steps, you must make a good impression, otherwise...". Josephine seemed at a loss of words for the first time since Riwan had met her. "Please, even Iron Bull is being quite decent at it."  
Riwan shot a brief glance to her right, where the Bull was indeed mimicking Vivienne's gracious paces and upright posture. She restrained another fit of laughter as she straightened her shirt, "All right Josie, please, show me the minuet's steps one more time. I promise you that I'll repeat them as faithfully and graciously as possible."  
Josephine smiled and exhaled, slightly relieved, "Good! Then after the minuet we still have the gavotte and then the sarabande..."  
"It's best if we learn one at a time, Josie."  
"Yes, right - I'm sorry. Vivienne, musicians... Would you mind starting over?"  
Less than two weeks separated them from the great ball at Halamshiral and Josephine had decided that the Inquisitor and her party would follow a full schedule of classes on the orlesian game and etiquette. Aided by an enthusiast Leliana, she was instructing them on how to respond when addressed according by the rank of who was addressing them, on which cutlery they should use for which food, on which subjects were taboo and how to disentangle themselves from an unpleasant conversation, and then - the dances. "Surely someone will ask you to dance, Inquisitor, it will not be polite to turn them down, especially if the proposal comes from someone high-ranked in court. It's important that you master at least the basic steps. I will put it plainly, Riwan: you're a Dalish elf, they won't go easy on you. Here, I said it."  
Riwan had laughed and acted superior, "I can imagine, the savage from the forest arrives to spread diseases and curses in their refined ball", but in truth that statement had quite unnerved her and she had already started fantasizing on challenging to a duel whoever dared to insult her.  
After a full quarter of an hour dedicated to minuet's steps, Varric having given up on them after barely a few minutes and having joined Dorian who was eating some fruit in a corner of the room, Riwan decided to express her perplexities:"Why aren't Cassandra and Cullen taking these dancing classes with us? Do I even need to know how to dance, since I'll be investigating on an assassination plot?"  
Josephine sighed again, passing the tip of her quill on her cheek a few times before answering.  
"I dearly hope that they do not even think about dancing. Well, Cassandra of course already knows the etiquette... I just hope they won't give me trouble. Where are Blackwall, Solas and Sera? They should have been here an hour ago!"  
Riwan decided not to investigate any further and left the Ambassador dwelling on her train of thoughts, while Bull approached her. "Boss," he said, offering her his outstretched hand. She bowed to him and they started circling around as best as they could, while Vivienne commented on the lack of refinement of their movements with a look of utter pain painted all over her face: "You look like you're catching flies, dear. And Iron Bull..."  
"Yes, ma'am?"  
"Do not crouch over her."  
"Yes, ma'am."  
He winked at Riwan and squeezed her hand and right in that moment a jolt of pain ran from Riwan's mark towards her shoulder. She gave out a cry and doubled over, squeezing her left hand and holding it tight to her body as a flashing image of yellow eyes blinded her for the briefest moment.  
Everybody immediately sprung from their position towards her and soon she found herself looking at her companions' faces from the cold surface of the floor, their voices and their concerned expressions becoming clearer with every passing second, surfacing from a misty black foam that had surrounded her vision.  
"Are you all right?"  
She tried to get up, but Dorian pushed her gently back down.  
"I'm all right!" Riwan said. She looked confusedly around her: the pain had disappeared as quickly as it had come and she didn't understand why she was lying on the floor.  
"You just fainted, Riwan. Stay still for some time. Is the mark troubling you?" Dorian said.  
"I'm totally fine! It was just... one of my usual jolts of pain. It sometimes hurt when I  
close a big rift, it's the first time it happens like this-"  
"Shit. Did I hold your hand too hard?". Bull was kneeling beside her and was rhythmically  
punching the floor. Riwan laughed and shook her head, looking closely at the mark.  
"I guess... you have a very strong grip, Bull..."  
"Of course I have, Boss! Shit. It never happened with other women before- you know..."  
"Fasta vass! Spare us!", Dorian hastily got up and shot Bull a furious look.  
"I should restrain myself next time- I hold something-"  
"That's it, I'm out of here". Dorian stormed out of the hall as Josephine declared that they  
should all take a break and meet for the war council later that day.

"I'm sorry, Inquisitor. We have decided it is best that we all put on the same formal attire. We have already ordered several pieces from the finest seamstress of Denerim and they will be delivered right before the ball."  
Riwan looked at the Dalish robes on her bed and grimaced. "But... This dress is beautiful-"  
"It is beautiful," Leliana said, a condescending tone in her voice meant to convince her,  
"However I agree with Josephine on this matter. We aren't going there to have fun, after all."  
"Really? Then why are we all forced to follow those stupid dancing classes?"  
Leliana sighed and looked at the ceiling. "May I?" she asked, gesturing towards the bed. Riwan made space for her and pushed the dress away, until it was just a bundle of green cloth.  
"The dance is part of the game. As is the talking and the good manners. You- we will all be under the closest scrutiny from everybody in that palace from the first moment we set foot in there. It is important to keep up appearances so that no one will doubt of our - good intentions there. Besides, I would like to put on a fine pair of shoes myself, but I won't. For the greater good."  
"Yes, yes, I understand."  
"Good. Well then, should we let Cora take your measurements?"  
At first, Riwan had anticipated the ball and had wondered how such a party held by the Empress herself would be. But now, after having seen the sketches of their attires and having obliged Leliana into taking her measurements, she craved for home more than ever - home in the woods, in the village, where they all sat around a warm fire, where each birthday was celebrated with lively music, affectionate words and hugs and -at the end of the evening, when the bottles of liquor had been drained- with wild dances. The impending orlesian ball seemed like a puppet show in comparison.  
Another war council took place that afternoon, negotiates with Duke Gaspard were held near the Frostbacks and one of Cullen's battalions had been sent to Orlais to make a deal with the Orlesian chevaliers of the Dales. They were weaving an intricate net of relationships so that no one could think to put themselves on the wrong side of the Inquisition when the day of the ball arrived.  
Riwan ran out of the war room as soon as the meeting was over, tired and bored, longing for dinner and for a hot bath. As soon as she reached open air the warm pull of a big hand made her stop. "Hey...". She smiled in hearing his familiar voice.  
"You have been hiding in the shadows in quite a proficient way as of lately," she said while turning around. Cullen's smirk rewarded her of all the hard day's work.  
"Shall we have dinner together?" he asked. They resumed walking one beside the other, trying to look as if they were having a friendly and polite business chat.  
"Of course. So? What about the hiding like a rat part?"  
"Ha! Indeed I am! As Blackwall is and Solas too. I am surprised by Bull, though, I didn't picture him as a dancing type..."  
"He isn't. He just loves to mess around. Just like Varric."  
They entered the Herald's Rest, collected their late dinner and seated themselves on a little table which two scouts left free for them.  
Even if Cullen hadn't participated at all to the special meetings set up by Josephine and Leliana he showed to be adjourned on their progress. He fussed over her mark and her fainting and Riwan couldn't reassure him enough that she was fine and that he needn't worry about it.  
She looked fondly at him while he kept on pressing her onto seeking Solas' advice. Soon his words sounded more like an echo as she lost herself in contemplating his features. She chewed on the same mouthful of peas for some time and forgot to swallow them. He looked slightly better than he had days before and though he still wasn't fine as she hoped he would be one day, she felt warm joy burning her chest and the back of her eyes in seeing him talking quietly and full of life in front of her, in seeing his eyes and his complexion bright even if tired.  
"Are you even listening to me?"  
She woke up from her reverie, "No" she said, swallowing down the peas and starting to laugh.  
She impulsively grabbed his hand resting on the table in front of him, then dropped it as soon  
as she realized that they were not in the right place for such a thing. "It's nice seeing you like this."  
"Like this- how?" he seemed perplexed.  
"It's nothing. Are you looking forward to Halamshiral?"  
Cullen burst into his usual brisk scoff, "No, I am not! I can't wait for it to be over so that we can resume working as we did before."  
"You truly are a man of war..."  
"It's not- I don't have to make war wherever I go, I just- ugh. I don't see what the point is in all those ceremonies between people that clearly want each other dead. Couldn't they  
just meet and talk, instead of having a ball? The hypocrisy of it all, the- in Ferelden it doesn’t work like that."  
"I know, I know. Good, old Ferelden. Even us Dalish savages have better ways to stipulate alliances."  
"No doubt about that!" Cullen said, shooting her a fond glance.  
They cleared their plates and Cassandra joined them from a drink. The Seeker was unnerved by all the preparations too and shared Cullen's sentiments that all would be other soon.  
They bid each other goodnight and parted ways after some time. Riwan fell rapidly asleep after a long hot bath.  
After a week of that routine, she woke up one morning and found a small parcel on the last step of her stairs. She had heard no one entering her room during the night and was quite startled by the sight of it. Still in her pajamas, she picked it up and sat back on the bed.  
A note was attached to the parcel and she immediately recognized the Spymaster's fine handwriting.  
"I thought that you would like to put this on at Halamshiral"  
She unwrapped the fine white paper and found inside a golden brooch, that caught the rays of the rising sun and shone with them, as light as a leaf and as big as one of the cook's almond biscuits: the bow and the elfroot of the Dalish.


	29. Halamshiral

###  Halamshiral 

An unfamiliar whisper woke her up.  
“Shit…”, she grumbled.  
“Shhh, quiet. Here, slowly, take my hand.”  
Her head was pulsating and ringing and the floor was hard and cold under her. She opened her eyes and waited for them to adjust to the darkness around her. A torch was giving its last sparkles on the floor beside her.   
“Inquisitor, do you remember your name and where you are?”  
“Ooofff…”, she groaned as she finally managed to sit down and discern her surroundings, “Yes, yes…”  
“I saw who did it, Inquisitor.”  
Riwan slowly rubbed the back of her head as she started to remember what had just happened.   
An epiphany struck her as soon as she noticed her empty hands. She gasped loudly, but “Quiet!” the man said.  
“Where are the papers?” she desperately whispered back.  
“Gone. Will you please remain calm and tell me how you feel?”  
“I’m fine” she angrily retorted as she slapped her thighs in frustration, “But this - this shouldn’t have happened.”  
“I’m sorry, I saw them getting away and-”  
“You saw them? And you did nothing?”  
“Yes, but-”  
“Aren’t you a chevalier?”  
The angry elf’s eyes made the young man recoil and crawl a little farther away from her on the marble ground.  
“Inquisitor, if they recognized me-”  
“Shit” Riwan said, not able to restrain herself anymore, “Fenedhis!”  
“Inquisitor, please. They must not find us here.”  
“Who were they? Did you at least manage to take a good look at them?”  
“Yes, there were two mercenaries and… an Arlequin? They were fully armed. I have only my short sword with me and I couldn’t risk-”  
“Why are you even following me?” she cut him short, getting up against his advice and massaging her head once again. They had hit her good. Lucky for her to still be alive.  
“I told you, I’m interested in my uncle’s doings as much as you are. My legacy-”  
“And I already told you that I’m not formally allied with your uncle or with anyone else in this palace!”  
“Yes, I know, but”, he reached for her as she swayed a little bit on her feet, but she declined his help, “but be it good or bad news I’m concerned about what he is doing. I want the truth and I want to keep my name clean.”  
Anger stifled inside Riwan’s chest. She looked at the brass statuette lying beside her feet. “They hit you with that,” the man said as soon as he noticed her eyes darting towards it.  
Riwan sighed and picked the torch up from the ground. She blew on it, trying to rekindle the fire, but it was no use. Her head still throbbed and she threw the torch on the ground with an angry groan.   
“May I?” the man said. He took her silence for consent and exited the room with the torch. He came back as silent as a fox after a few minutes, the torch was lit again. “Here”, he handed it to her with a smile, “What do we do now?”  
Riwan took the torch and examined the face that looked back at her in the dark. The fire made his dark eyes look like glowing pieces of coal, his light moustache and long black hair engulfed his fine face with glossy reflexes. Duke Bastien’s nephew surely must have been a very skilled chevalier and a real womanizer, but to Riwan was proving himself to be a nuisance and a burden, to say the least.   
Just a few hours before she was gaping at the high ceilings covered with lighted braziers and chandeliers, at the neverending tables filled with cakes and strange, coloured foods, at the orlesian nobles dressed in the most extravagant ways - with huge masks or hats, covered in gems and feathers, in fine iridescent cloth and turbans. And now she was standing in a cold and dark room inside the palace, surrounded by spies, her stomach growling, her head hurting like hell and this guy pestering her like a leech.   
He had approached her in the ballroom, after the bell had rung a few times to announce the beginning of the soiree, and presented himself as Gerard de Chalons, third and only living nephew to Duke Gaspard de Chalons, captain in one of the countless legions of the orlesian army. He had bowed an impeccable bow as his hair kept tight by a silk ribbon had gently slid on his shoulder. No sooner had Riwan greeted him than he had started talking quickly about himself, his role in the orlesian military, and then about his uncle and he had gently attracted her to the garden where he had openly asked for her help in investigating his relative’s doings. Completely baffled by the young man’s silver tongue, Riwan had managed to finally say a few words, covered by the gurgling sound of the fountain beside them. Anyone who might look at them would have thought that they were enjoying an innocuous amicable chat - if not slightly romantic. She had quickly eyed Dorian, who stood leaning against a column in the distance, a glass of wine in his hand, but who was clearly pretending not to even see her. “I have no idea what you are talking about, Ser”, was all that she could say. Would Josephine approve of her? She suddenly couldn’t remember anything at all about their endless manners lessons in Skyhold.   
Gerard had sighed and had taken off his feathery hat, then, perhaps in a gesture that was meant to shock her, he had taken off the thin, bright red mask that covered his face.   
“Inquisitor, I know that my uncle has been having suspicious dealings lately and... “, he turned his eyes around him as if searching for the right words, “You must understand that I have taken the matter at heart: my legacy is at stake, I must know what’s going on. Please, let me come with you.”  
She knew that she couldn’t trust him, he had been trained his whole life to play the game, even if he was a chevalier, and she found it quite alarming that he had sought for her help so openly. How could he know that she was after his uncle’s secrets too? And not only his but the Empress’s too and even Briala’s.   
“Ser-”  
“Please, call me Gerard,” he interrupted her.  
“Ser,” she repeated, with a more decisive voice than before, “As the Inquisitor, I am here merely to participate in the negotiations and the peace talks. I am not investigating over any suspicious dealing, as you have called it, and I am not interested in digging out secrets about a man such as your uncle is.”  
The chevalier had sighed and his flamboyant manner had suddenly left him. He looked earnestly towards her, his thin nose twitched over his moustache as he nervously inspired.   
“Inquisitor, aren’t you as worried as I am about the Empire’s situation? Is the Inquisition going to stand beside the Empress or is it going to be the invisible hand that will strike her down with my uncle’s one?”  
“You speak bold words against me, Ser.”  
“I would never do that if I did not see in you a good woman who is ready to do what is right for this land. I put my honour of chevalier at stake with these bold words, Madame.”  
Riwan had smiled in hearing him say Madame with his strong orlesian accent. His gravity looked quite funny to her and she would have even agreed to accept his help, would it not endanger their whole operation in Halamshiral.  
“I am ready to do what is right for this land as you are, Ser, and I will do so by joining the peace talks tonight and advising each party as best as I can if required to do so.”  
Gerard had sighed, his head had jerked in annoyance but soon he got over himself and smiled a tight smile. “I understand,” he said. He eyed her for a moment and then turned towards the fountain, looking at the caprice coins on its bottom. He still made no sign of wanting to leave her, so she waited patiently for him to resume talking. She crossed her arms and tried to look around her as unnoticed as she could.   
When he turned towards her again he was composed and serene as before, “Then I hope that you will save a dance for me, Madame. The quadrille, perhaps?”  
“Oh…” she felt her cheeks flushing and tried to remember what Josephine had told her about declining invites, “But I-”  
“Or are you already engaged to someone else?”. His tone was suave and pressing.   
She gritted her teeth and smiled nonetheless, thinking about the decisive “No” that Cullen had blurted to her when she had asked him to dance. “In fact, I am not…” she said, feeling like a mouse caught in the paws of a cat.  
“Very well then!” he exclaimed. His dark eyes shone bright again and lost the malice that had crossed them before, “I will see you in the ballroom as soon as the next bell sounds then, Madame. Unless,” he added while bowing deeply, “we run into each other somewhere else…”. With that, he shot her another quick glance and marched towards the patio door with his shoulders square and his pace secure, his hat and mask already back on his head.   
“Oh, Mythal, what have I gotten into…” she thought to herself, nervously biting her lower lip.  
Now, Riwan was glaring at this same man, who was lurking in the shadows as she was doing and was up to no good exactly as she was. He had caught her red-handed sneaking in the palace, clearly searching for the same evidence as she was, and he had - well, at least he hadn’t hit her in the head with a brass statue, for she had turned in time to see someone in a grey vest doing it, while Gerard was covered in the chevalier’s blue and red.  
She sighed, “Very well, what do you suggest… Gerard?”  
Her head started to hurt even more as soon as she saw the excited look that the man gave her - he had discarded his mask and hat, or he had probably hidden them somewhere.  
“Right, so - I doubt my uncle would hire an Arlequin to do this job and…” he started pacing around, his hands making big exaggerated movements in the air around him while talking, “why would he even steal documents that concern him?”  
“To hide them from us?” Riwan said, crossing her arms, while her eyebrows darted upwards.  
The chevalier laughed under his breath, “Yes, it could be. But I know my uncle, I bet that he is more preoccupied with uncovering Celene’s dirty affairs, rather than hiding his.”  
“Very well, then it could be Celene herself-”  
“No, the Empress is just waiting for my uncle to misstep and-”  
“So there’s someone else fooling around with us tonight,” Riwan cut him short, moving the torch around so as to light every corner of the room, “Interesting…”  
“Yes. And don’t forget that we should show ourselves as soon as the next bell sounds. You still owe me that dance, Inquisitor…”  
Riwan scoffed and looked at the young man grinning in front of her. He didn’t avert his eyes and followed her suit as soon as she moved towards the doors that led to the library.   
“You’re joking, right?” she finally said, one hand on the handle of the door.  
“I am not,” he replied, taking one step towards her and grabbing the torch from her hand. “We should put this out, it gives us away, don’t you think?”  
“Between you and Duchess Florianne, I’ll waste all my time on the dancefloor and our investigation-”  
“Let’s go!”. He cut her short, put his hand on the handle over hers and opened the door.   
They crept along dark halls and corridors, passed through pompous bedrooms and over lush carpets and after plenty of sneaking, crawling, hiding and, Riwan had to admit to herself, snickering too, they found a compromising message meant for Bastien signed by someone who certainly wasn’t a chevalier nor even one of the Duke’s personal servants. As the bell rang announcing the impending dances, Riwan clutched the piece of thin paper and hid it in her breast pocket. Gerard had handed it to her with a faint bow - “I trust it to you, Inquisitor”, he said, and Riwan thought for a moment about telling him about the documents concerning Celene and Briala that she had found earlier on. But fortunately, the bell rang again. He took her hand and led her out of the gloomy study they were standing in, “You know what to do with it. Now let’s head to happier engagements.”  
“I didn’t think you would hand this message over to me…” Riwan stammered, crouching beside him, her hand still tight in his.  
“I told you already that I think you are a good woman... and,” he added, noticing her puzzled look in the moonlit corridor, “do not doubt me, I will find this mercenary and discover the truth behind this message. I do not need proof, I do not participate in the peace talks like you, Inquisitor. I just want to punch this man and my uncle in the face and know whether I’m going to face disgrace or lead a tranquil life happily ever after”. They darted across the corridor and reached the doors to the vestibule. “Besides, you will help me if my name will be disgraced, right?”  
He smiled confidently, retrieved his hat and mask from behind a large vase and gestured towards the door.  
“And what if I don’t?” Riwan said.  
“You will, Inquisitor. Your army just signed a treaty with my legion one week ago”. He smirked and opened the door, nearly pushing her towards the lit stairs.   
She bit her tongue as he offered her his arm and led her to the ballroom. She barely saw a puzzled Cassandra looking towards her before exiting the vestibule.   
“You snake,” she hissed, her anger and the bright light of the ballroom nearly blinding her after the long hour spent in the dark. “Couldn’t you tell me earlier?”  
“I didn’t? I was too anxious to bring you to my side. Besides, this was more fun right?”  
Riwan couldn’t possibly think of a clever retort and soon she was standing in the middle of the ballroom, hundreds of eyes gazing at her, while the other couples arranged themselves around them and the musicians tuned their instruments. Panic crept upon her as soon as the shock of the revelation left her and as soon as she understood that she was now going to dance the quadrille in front of the whole orlesian court with one of its renowned chevaliers. Her mouth turned dry and she clutched the dalish brooch on her chest for the briefest moment. Then, Gerard and the other men bowed and the dance started.  
As they twirled and hopped and exchanged couples as the quadrille commanded, Gerard would speak from time to time, whenever he found himself beside her. Thankfully enough, Bull had proven to be a much rougher companion than the chevalier, and Riwan found herself gently led on the dancefloor, through the movements and the music.  
“I didn’t mean to deceive you, Inquisitor,” he said, “Besides, I technically did nothing wrong.”  
“I feel deceived all the same,” Riwan answered, breathless and tense, “Even if we technically are allies.”  
He smiled mischievously and let her hand slip into another gentleman’s one. Riwan smiled back at her new partner as best as she could and tried to snap back at Gerard as soon as he was by her side again.  
“Do not doubt me, Inquisitor,” he anticipated her, “Or my loyalty. As I said, it was egoistic motives that put me on my uncle’s tracks tonight. And I won’t endanger an alliance with the Inquisition so proficiently stipulated.”  
“If only you hadn’t caught me senseless-”  
“You would have probably stayed there for a while and missed that message completely. Or someone would have killed you first.”  
He grinned and Riwan breathed in deeply as they started the last sequence of steps of the dance.  
“Right…” she exhaled and concentrated on her unsure feet.  
He took both her hands in his and came near her as the instruments played the last note.   
“We both have what we wanted. But you gained more from our little bargain -”, he bowed deeply while the crowd applauded the dancing couples, “You now have my life in your hands. I will kill that mercenary scoundrel as soon as I find him. And I’ll learn what to do with my uncle after that.”   
The nobles around them started chatting and laughing as they dispersed around the dancefloor, while both of them remained still, one in front of the other.  
“But-”  
“If you don’t find him first, right, but, you see - I have no peace talkings to attend to.”  
He barely listened to her answer: “What do you mean with 'you'll learn what to do with your uncle'? Are you going to kill-”  
“That is exactly what I have to do, Inquisitor," he interrupted her.  
He gave her a charming and confident smile and led her away from the crowd. He didn’t leave her again until he left her in someone else’s company, as etiquette required. He bowed and caressed Josephine only by looking at her.  
“Madame Montilyet, Madame Lavellan…”. And with that he blended into the colourful crowd, disappearing between the nobles and the diplomats, the feathers and the furs.


	30. A young man's dealings

###  A young man's dealings

He walked through the moonlit corridor without even bothering to hide or to muffle the sound of his footsteps. His boots made an echoing thump whenever they hit the marble floor, but there were enough carpets lying in the halls and corridors in order not to care too much about the noise.  
Besides, the racket coming from the garden was such that it was surprising that no one from the palace hadn’t already noticed it.  
A sharp turn was ahead of him and the windows right before him were obscured by heavy velvet curtains so that not even the light from the full moon outside could enter. He immediately slowed down, a hand ran to the hilt of his sword as he entered the darkened corridor. The shouts and metal noises from the garden seemed even louder now.  
He cautiously approached a window and tried to peer behind the curtains, when the faintest sound at his back made his blood turn to ice and his muscles react even before his brain had processed the thought - he found himself facing the dark behind him, his blade drawn out, aimed in front of him. He held his breath. His instinct had proven to be right: someone emerged from the shadows, with hands raised, a short blade in one of them: the tip of his sword stood barely a few inches from the figure’s neck.  
“Declare yourself.” His angry whisper rang in the still air around him.  
“Yes, wait, I-” the figure stammered and knelt and he could barely see in the dim light that it had dropped its weapon to the ground. “See, I’m unarmed now.”  
“Who are you? What are you doing here?”  
The figure laughed, making him lose his patience. Without even looking he reached for the curtain behind him and pulled it. A silver light flooded the floor around them and the man squinted for a second.  
“You…” he said, just as the other man opened his mouth to form a little “o”.  
The man laughed again. “I am as shocked as you are, Commander!” he said, making an exaggerated bow.  
“You’re captain de Chalons…”. He was confused and for a moment he didn’t dare lower his sword. Seeing the other’s hands still cautiously up in the air made him come to his senses. He put his blade back in its scabbard, but his muscles wouldn’t relax and chills ran on the back of his head.  
“Indeed I am, Commander. We met… what was it, a ten days ago? I was the sulky one standing beside the General-”  
“I remember you,” Cullen cut him short. The man looked at him with a comical expression on his face and couldn’t refrain from laughing again.  
“Now, we have found ourselves in a very strange situation Commander… Neither you nor I should be here and it is quite unfortunate that we ran one into the other!”  
“I do not need to explain myself,” Cullen said, narrowing his eyes.  
In the brief silence that followed a scream came from the garden, from the window behind him, and he couldn’t prevent his right arm to make the smallest twitch. That was enough for the chevalier, who smiled and looked at him with wide eyes.  
“It must be some of your people in the garden, Commander…”  
Cullen didn’t answer.  
“I see… Very well, then. I am no menace to you or to either of them. I am here on my own. My goal could even match your Inquisitor’s one, you may say-”  
“What do you mean?”. The chevalier’s manners and tone were making him lose his temper. He contracted his jaws and stretched his neck to try and be calm.  
“I dare say that you saw both of us dancing-”  
“Get to the point,” he growled. This was too much. He took a step towards the chevalier without even thinking, but the man merely smiled even more and raised his hands again.  
“I have an agreement with her. I’m doing my own investigations over a band of mercenaries who are lurking in this palace while she… may do whatever she wants, as long as both of us keep our mouths shut.”  
Cullen didn’t believe a single word the chevalier said. He seemed vicious and sneaky. He seemed vile and two-faced. But not because he had danced with her, no, it wasn’t because of that, he just could read it in his face. But he was in no position to cross an ally, especially one such as Duke Gaspard’s nephew, one who had caught him sneaking around in a forbidden area of the palace.  
“Let me see…” the man said, while he was lost in his thoughts. He passed near him and looked outside the window. “She seems all right,” he declared, with a sufficient tone.  
He couldn’t prevent but to stand beside him and peer down in turn. That figure, the bow, the woman with the shield… they were fine, she was fine. He exhaled lightly. He saw them exchange a few words and then run away. De Chalons briskly moved away.  
“So, have we reached an agreement? You let me proceed on my mercenary hunt and I let you do whatever it is that you’re doing? Commander?”  
Cullen couldn’t bare even looking at that grinning face.  
“Go,” he merely said.  
“It was a pleasure doing business with you. See you later!”  
The chevalier laughed under his breath again and lightly ran away, disappearing into the darkness of the long corridor ahead.  
Cullen sighed. Everything about that evening was wrong. But she was fine and that man wouldn’t risk crossing her, he knew what he would face if he tried.  
He looked one more time towards the garden and went back from where he came from.

Riwan felt the sweat run copiously down her forehead, down her back and neck, as she ran along the hallway, towards the windows from whence a familiar green light could be seen.  
She had estimated that a few duels and scuffles may take place that evening, but this - mercenaries, assassins, harlequins, venatori… all in one single palace, all of them crossing their path and their blades. Orlesians were out of their minds.  
Cassandra opened the doors with a single kick and a rift as big as the indoor garden they were facing welcomed them. A man was screaming like a drunken sailor and shadows and demons were already leaking out of the green light. Her left hand tickled and the battle began. She had learnt not to look the demons in the face, not to even think about them and to concentrate on the rift instead. It was closed in no time and the demons were killed.  
The screaming man crawled towards them, crying, and at that moment she saw other corpses on the ground, blood spilling out of their cut throats - mercenaries.  
“P-please, spare me…” the man wailed. He sat on his knees and kept on crying.  
“Who did it, who are you? Who opened this rift?” Riwan said. She knelt on the floor beside him and hesitantly patted his shoulder.  
“It was a man-”  
“Did you recognize him? How was he dressed?”  
“A chevalier, I think… I’ll tell you everything if you spare me!” the man sobbed.  
Riwan heard Cassandra grunting in annoyment behind her and Vivienne clicking her tongue. Dorian made no discernible noise while rummaging through the dead mercenaries' belongings.  
“I’ll spare you. Tell me everything,” she urged him.  
“Duke Gaspard hired us. The chevalier, he had black hair, he came for us, stole the engagement letter from my boss, he spared me only because this rift opened. He ran away through that door. We were waiting for midnight to proceed with our task, the hour of the peace talks…”  
Riwan sighed and stayed there for a moment, her hand still on the mercenary's shoulder, unable to think.  
“Any thoughts on what to do with this poor sod?” Dorian finally asked her.  
“Yes,” she quickly got up, “Reach the ballroom and look for Commander Cullen or lieutenant Zyn of the Inquisition. They will protect you. Will you testify for us against Gaspard when the time comes?”  
“I will, Inquisitor! I will if you keep me safe!”  
“Great. Then go. That road is safe, we killed them all.”  
The man sprinted away through the open doors behind them.  
“What a mess!” Cassandra exclaimed, “Has everybody come here tonight to kill someone else?”  
No sooner had she finished talking than a burst of high-pitched laughter reached them from a balcony above. Duchess Florianne was looking at them, accompanied by closed ranks of venatori soldiers. She licked her lips and studied them, like a hyena before it gnaws its prey.  
“Did you like my surprise, Inquisitor? Corypheus sends his greetings to you.”

The ballroom echoed with laughter, voices, instruments playing, the clattering of the cutlery and the shrill, high-pitched squeals produced by the orlesian ladies. Everything seemed so calm and lustrous, so magnificent and opulent. Yet everything about it was wrong. The atmosphere that permeated the air was so nervous and tense that it dug deeper wrinkles around Celene’s mouth, that it could be cut by a butter knife.  
“They should be here any moment,” Josephine was starting to become nervous too, “The peace talks will start soon”. She fretted beside Cullen and Leliana and looked around her, trying to distinguish Riwan’s figure amidst the crowd. “What did you say about the garden?”  
“Nothing. They seemed fine when I looked outside the window and-”  
“Commander, will you dance the next dance with me?”  
“No.”  
“We’re sorry, Madame Le Boil, the peace talks will start any minute now and the Commander is to participate in them,” Leliana quickly intervened.  
The noblewoman smiled politely. “I see,” she said, making a courtesy that would have made many men reconsider their denial to her proposal. “Then I hope to see you later, Commander.”  
“Cullen, the manners,” Leliana said, as soon as the woman was gone. Her pursed lips and unfathomable stare were insistently aimed at him, but he seemed not to care.  
“Maybe I should go and check again,” he said instead.  
“No,” Josephine said. This time it was she that showed better control than him. She pulled him by his arm and put him back to his place, on her right side. “What if they aren’t back when the peace talks start? We shall all go instead.”  
Cullen sighed impatiently and caressed with two fingers the hilt of his sword. Every turning face, every noise louder than the others could signal their coming back. He scrutinized the crowd from his position, but no sign of them could be made. He looked on the other side of the room too, towards the elegant ladies perched on the banister like vain parrots, and then he saw the red and blue - the coat of the chevaliers, the tied black hair. Captain De Chalons moved quickly and knowingly, melting in the crowd. But his movements were too hasty, his paces too rigid-  
“Excuse me, there is something I must do,” he said, without even looking at Josephine and Leliana. He marched away and tried to reach the captain. He could have only gone through the tall patio doors on the other side of the room. When he reached them, though, the doors didn’t oblige his push. He tried again, but they remained close. He looked for a moment behind his shoulders, but everyone’s attention seemed to be catalyzed towards someone dancing on the dancefloor below. He knelt and looked through the keyhole and then through the little gap between the two doors: there was something blocking them. A drop of sweat crossed his temple as he extracted his sword and pushed away the unknown object with the tip of his blade, inserting it in the gap. A clunking sound - finally the door opened. 

They ran, along corridors and up stairs, not caring about secrecy anymore, weapons clanging, boots thumping, her breath short and rhythmical, it remained in the helm and made her sweat even more. ‘Fenehdis, fuck, fenehdis…’ was all she was thinking.  
“Here!” Cassandra shouted.  
As Riwan sprang open the door to the ballroom her head went automatically to Mythal - it had become a habit, ‘Mythal, tell me I’m on time’, not that she believed in any of these prayers, but the absurdity of her life had pushed her towards reciting that name every time, to keep her sane, to have someone to attribute the reason why everything was happening.  
The door banged on the wall, making the people next to it gasp, and then gasp even louder when they saw the Inquisitor and her party all dressed up in their armour, weapons, covered in slime and blood.  
Riwan took off her helm and her fine hairstyle collapsed on her shoulders, the braids undone, the hair electrified. She looked all around her like an alarmed wildcat: Celene was still standing, there was no sign of Duchess Florianne yet and Cullen - where was Cullen?  
She ran towards lieutenant Zyn, the others immediately behind her, pushing everyone out of their way without many ceremonies, not minding the protests and the shrills from the decorated crowd.  
“Zyn!” she almost yelled.  
“Yes, Inquisitor?” the elf stood tall and broad and his hand bolted upwards towards his forehead.  
“At ease,” she said, “where is Cullen?”  
“I don’t know, Inquisitor. He was with lady Nightingale and lady Montilyet a minute ago. He said he wanted to talk with Duke Gaspard before leaving me.”  
Riwan’s eyebrows darted upwards and she grabbed Zyn by his arms: “Zyn you must send every man in search of Duchess Florianne, do you hear me? The first who finds her must arrest her - immediately! She is armed and guarded by venatori, they will probably put up a fight. Do you understand?”  
“Yes, ma’am,” he said and he snapped his fingers so that the three Inquisition soldiers standing not far behind him immediately reached him, “Arrest her. Probable fight. Immediately,” he said. His seriousness and rapidity in imparting the new orders made her relax for the briefest moment and as soon as he departed with the soldiers she had already thought about what to do next.  
“All right. Dorian - with me. Cass, Viv… help them search for Florianne.”  
“What are we looking for, if you don’t mind me asking?” she heard Dorian say. He was right behind her, looking around him and shoving past the scandalized people, his tone sarcastic as always, only the slightest hint of tiredness could be made out by how he exhaled at the end of the question.  
“Cullen. And Duke Gaspard. And his nephew. There’s something going on.”  
“All right…”. The mage seemed skeptical but followed her around nonetheless.  
It seemed to Riwan that endless minutes passed until she noticed that slightly ajar balcony door. She had actually ran past it when she heard some angry voices coming from it and she halted, making Dorian bump into her and complain. But she did not listen to him and literally kicked the window open and covered her gasping mouth at the sight of the spectacle before her.  
But it was just a second and then she yelled: “Stop it!” and she thrust her left hand forward and the energy from the fade enveloped the three men, stalling them.  
First of all, she saw Cullen. He was holding Gerard by his neck and his teeth were gritted and his uniform had a torn sleeve and blood had dampened the fabric, tainting it brown.  
Gerard’s eyes were nearly popping out of fear, but he still held a blade in his right hand - and its tip was covered in blood. And Duke Gaspard was looking at the two men with anger and disgust, his blade held high towards his nephew, his brows wrinkled and his mask dangerously hanging on his nose.  
When the green energy wrapped them, their eyes ran to her, and all of them expressed different feelings - surprise, alarm, relief, disdain and shame. “WHAT is going on?” Riwan shouted, exasperated. Her voice broke and her left hand hung in the sky, making the Veil’s energy denser around them, almost smashing them.  
“Riwan!” Cullen managed to yell back.  
She bit her lower lip, looked at her hand and begrudgingly lowered it. The electricity around them vanished, together with the deafening sensation and the constriction to their lungs.  
“What is going on?” she repeated. The three men looked at each other but none answered. They had lowered their arms and weapons and looked like three angry mabari ready to charge. “Answer me!”  
“I caught this scoundrel trying to assassinate Duke Gaspard. So much for an ally…” Cullen angrily retorted. His nostrils flared and he clutched his left arm with his sane hand. “I arrived just in time to deflect his blow.” He scoffed and paced away, looking sideways at Duke Gaspard and turning his shoulders to his nephew.  
“You - you deflected it with your arm?” Riwan hesitantly asked. Despite the gravity of the situation, she would have liked to laugh - for the exhaustion, yes, but even for the look of scolded children that the three soldiers were by and by putting on.  
“Inquisitor! I-” Gerard dramatically intervened, extending an imploring hand towards her.  
“Shut up,” she said, covering Dorian’s chuckle by raising her voice, “One at a time. Cullen?”  
“My, what an evening…” Dorian muttered.  
“Yes, with my arm.” It cost Cullen every ounce of his pride to admit that he didn’t even think of taking his sword out. One moment of hesitation and Duke Gaspard’s head would now be on the ground. He blushed and angrily looked away.  
“Inquisitor, may I…?” Duke Gaspard intervened with his sneaky and honeyed voice.  
“Yes, Duke, delight us,” Riwan said. She crossed her arms and pursed her lips, feeling more and more like a teacher dealing with bullies.  
“My nephew tried to kill me!” the Duke said with a scandalized tone.  
“So much we understood, my dear Duke,” Dorian said, with a mocking smile on his lips.  
The mage’s words made Gaspard boil in anger. “He has tried to kill me because he is blaming me with false accusations of conspiracies and scheming.”  
Riwan briefly looked at Gerard’s bowed head. “They are not so false, Duke. As far as I know, I happened to have trouble with some mercenaries that you yourself hired-”  
“This is nonsense! I demand-”  
“Shut up!” Riwan shouted. Her raised left hand was enough a menace to make the Duke swallow his words. She was losing her patience and time was running out. She had to deal with Florianne too and felt the intense desire of sending the two orlesian relatives in the Fade. “What about you, Gerard? Have you got anything to say in your defense? Be quick, please.”  
Gerard didn’t answer and covered his face with his hand. His sword fell to the ground with a loud clanking sound that made Riwan even more impatient. But soon the man’s sobs added themselves to the echo of the falling sword. “Unbelievable,” Cullen muttered, walking to and fro, still clutching his arm. Dorian exhaled in surprise and stared at the chevalier with an amused and surprised look.  
“You don’t know how it is, Inquisitor,” Gerard finally said, raising his teary, angry eyes towards her, his face contorted midway between despair and anger, “to be the unwanted, adopted child of a noble orlesian family! My father was a chevalier too and I was to follow his footsteps, but I was only seven years old when he died in a duel. And my dear mother, who had found me in a basket in front of a Church and taken me in, she was a good woman, but so immersed in the Game that she died, poisoned a week after. Such a shame that a foundling should still be called De Chalons, right uncle? I didn’t want to be a chevalier, but he made me live with a distant, old relative for years, with nothing to engage my young mind with and sent me in the army as soon as he could. Not once did he accept to meet me! I would have remained a simple soldier all of my life, scouting the Tevinter border, probably killed in one of the neverending battles those regiments face every day, had I not met Celene! Dear Gaspard here was determined to let me rot a simple soldier and forget about me! But the one single time my legion passed through Val Royeaux I knew it was my opportunity to finally live a few days of real life. I went to museums, to the royal gardens, to the theatre… I spent all of my money to feed my soul and it was exactly at the theatre that I was repaid. The Empress was attending the opera too and I waited for her, I was dressed as a chevalier, I made it to her door and then attracted her attention. She was so kind - she listened to me talking behind De Chevin’s blade and granted me an appointment for the next day. Then she promoted me, raised my pay, put me in charge of a legion that patrols the Dales so that I could enjoy the city life once in a while. Had it been for Duke Gaspard I would have been forgotten! He was so ashamed of his dead sister and her naivete! A bastard foundling carrying the De Chalons’ name! And tonight he planned on killing my only benefactor!”  
Gerard swiftly picked up his blade and raised it again, but Cullen this time was prepared. In a flash of silver, he made his sword clash against the chevalier’s one and looked at him with a menacing gaze. “Don’t you dare make another move,” he growled.  
Gerard looked at Gaspard, standing annoyed and feigning disbelief behind Cullen. “I hate you, uncle!” Tears were streaming down his cheeks and he threw his sword on the ground with a scream.  
Riwan didn’t know what to say. She looked at both of the De Chalons with a tied throat. But then she heard a clamor coming from the ballroom.  
“Cullen!” she hastily said. She knew she had to run again, even if her sore muscles were begging her not too. “Stay with Gerard here, don’t lose him. I will decide what is of him.” At these words, the chevalier looked at her with begging and wide eyes, to which she answered with a sad, constrained smile, “Do not harm him,” she added. “Duke, please come with me. We have peace talks to attend to.”  
Duke Gaspard begrudgingly obeyed her and followed her and Dorian inside the ballroom.


End file.
